


Wake Up To Reality

by chrisPnutts



Category: Naruto, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: (It'll make sense later), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mineta Minoru Doesn't Exist, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Neglect, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, John Wick Worship, Lee/being an asshole as a defense mechanism, Lee/denial, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reincarnation, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, TW: pizza, The power of friendship, Trauma, but not really, canon can suck my dick, he does but just for like a second, inspired by literally every OC fic I've read, unnecessary Jojo's references, we're going off-roading baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29982603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrisPnutts/pseuds/chrisPnutts
Summary: "After being dead for five minutes, Lee could say with certainty that the experience was extremely overhyped."At least, that's what she thought until she found out that she'd been isekai'd into an anime universe where buff dudes running around destroying things for clout was the new normal.She very much wanted to become one of those buff dudes.Dying might have been the best thing to ever happen to her.
Relationships: Original Character(s) & Original Character(s), Original Character(s) & Shinsou Hitoshi, Original Character(s) & Uraraka Ochako
Comments: 32
Kudos: 79





	1. Where this flower blooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own BNHA.
> 
> “Ayo/Let’s take it back to them days/Counting sheep on Sadie Hannah’s floor/Carpet was my baby mama/80 dollar profit from the coffee I poured” - Tyler the Creator

After being dead for five minutes, Lee could say with certainty that the experience was extremely overhyped.

Dying itself hadn’t been very pleasant, but the ensuing warm, wet silence was so much worse than the pain of being burnt to a crisp inside her own apartment. As an atheist, she had been under the impression that death would lead to nonexistence and not… whatever she was going through right now.

The significant lack of torture noises and screams of the damned were a surefire sign that hell was off the table. While it stung to have her anti-afterlife ideals disproven, Lee found a sort of spiteful satisfaction in the fact that the Catholic church didn’t get it right either. Small victories.

Small, tight victories. Because wherever she was, it was uncomfortably confining and she wanted out. Lee was not known for her patience in life, and apparently the same could be said about her death. If she could move, Lee would be frantically bouncing a leg to release the pent-up energy building inside of her.

Huh. On second thought, maybe this was hell. If her boy satan really was able to design any non-believer’s nightmare situations, then this one would for sure go in her top ten. An eternity of being moist and mostly immobile? She (mentally) shuddered. 

Luckily, any more potentially existential crises Lee could work herself into were subverted by a squeezing sensation that forcibly shoved her out of the hellish prison.

Unluckily, the extraction point was a vagina. 

Lee realized with a sort of feverish amusement that this had to be the first time she wasn’t thrilled to see one.

She wished she was joking; but from what she could see, childbirth was no joke. Her stomach lurched and she immediately regretted looking. If Lee had the motor functions required for moving her mouth, she would apologize or something. Because damn.

The scene was so grotesque it nearly distracted her from another related issue that definitely seemed a little important: she was a baby. Again. 

Lee was beginning to regret ever dissing God.

And so, there she was. Being manhandled by impossibly large, latex-covered hands in an impossibly small body, with impossibly cohesive thoughts for what was supposed to be some poor fuck’s infant child. 

From what she knew about babies, which was very little, Lee supposed that having the knowledge of a pre med college student was most likely outside the norm. She also absently noticed that she wasn’t crying: yet another thing that was probably concerning for a two-minute-old. 

She tried to eavesdrop on the doctors and get a better feel for her situation, but they were speaking in Japanese. Sadly, Lee’s repertoire of languages was limited to English, some Spanish, and a very basic knowledge of Korean (courtesy of dad’s side of the family). Lee could only thank her preference for subbed anime as the reason for recognizing the language so quickly. 

God, she missed being able to talk already. That and having teeth. 

Speaking of God, did this mean he really didn’t exist? With the whole reincarnation thing. Lee didn’t know much about religion, but being reborn was definitely more of a Buddhism thing. Or was it Hinduism? She couldn’t remember.

By taking a quick glance at her surroundings, she could see that the technology of the surrounding hospital setting was only slightly more advanced than what she was used to. Not to mention Japanese still existed. This could mean one of two possibilities: either she was still in her original timeline at some point during the future, or she had managed to somehow warp spacetime as a burnt corpse and transmigrate into an alternate universe. 

The Japanese speakers in the room were making her disgustingly hopeful about the latter. 

She was handed off one last time from a nurse to the unfortunate victim of her rough exit from the birth canal. Said victim looked like shit, with her sweaty, dark hair plastered to her face and large bags lining her eyes. Yet despite all that she must’ve been through (what with giving birth and all), the lady was smiling. It was a little shaky and unsure, but genuine nonetheless and she cradled Lee’s tiny body in her arms carefully, like she was afraid to break her.

One of the doctors spoke to the birth-giver and she, all the while never taking her eyes off of Lee, spoke a phrase that Lee definitely couldn’t understand but due to the sappy look on everyone’s face it probably wasn’t worth knowing. 

When was the last time somebody looked at her like that? Definitely not her first mom. This second one was already winning in terms of motherliness. If there was one good thing about being reincarnated, Lee supposed that not having mommy issues would count for something. 

Lee yawned, tired from the whole dying-and-being-reincarnated thing. 

Now that she thought about it, this all seemed like the plot to a poorly written fanfiction.

It was the last thing she thought before passing out in new mom’s arms. 

_____

  
  


Fujii Machi was never cut out to be a mother.

If you had told her a year ago that she would be raising her own child she wouldn’t have taken you seriously. Probably would have laughed, punched you, and walked away.

And yet here she was, a six month old in her arms and barely any clue as to what to do with it. It was no secret that she wasn’t the biggest fan of children, especially small ones. Hell, it wouldn’t even be a stretch to say that she disliked them. 

She hadn’t even known she was pregnant until she went in for her yearly checkup. To her untrained eyes, she had just assumed she was getting fatter. 

Boy had she been wrong. And yet…

She couldn’t find it in her to terminate the pregnancy. Machi looked down at the sleeping face of the newest addition to the Fujii family. The little thing wasn’t too bad looking for a baby (given that she generally found infants to be uglier than British singer-songwriter Ed Sheeran on a good day). The kid had her brown hair and eyes, but she could already tell she would look more like her father than herself. And that  _ stung _ . 

It was like a last “fuck you” from him to her, as if him leaving wasn’t enough as it was.

It had been more than a year since he hit the road, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. She was strong and she knew it, but even Cheeky Chi had her limits. She found taking it was becoming easier and easier to hit them, these days (though, those might just be the hormones talking). 

Sometimes the kid would yawn, exposing the first white nubs of baby teeth, and all Machi could see was  _ him _ . His beautifully tanned skin, pretty face, and pretty words and it would ache almost as bad as it did the first week after he was gone. On her worst days, she could barely stand looking at her own child and she hated herself for it. She was just a baby, and Machi was just the woman who was never supposed to have her. 

Though… the kid didn’t feel like  _ just _ a baby. Machi might not have been ready to have children, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew it wasn’t normal for babies to act the way hers did. 

The first few months had been a hellish mess of emotions, finances, and googling things about childcare, but somehow she knew they could have been worse. Her first clue was how much sleep she was getting, which was more than whatever book and website about babies said the kid would allow for.

After arriving home from the hospital, delirious with exhaustion, Machi barely had enough energy to put the baby to bed before she passed out herself. Only after waking up from twelve, uninterrupted hours of sleep did she realize clue number two: her kid didn’t cry.

Not even when she was born. Instead of squirming and screaming like any child was supposed to do after being forced out of a hot coochie, she just kind of sat there and looked around with (clue number three:) brown eyes that were far too intelligent for any newborn baby to have. She never seemed to relax, always taking in her surroundings with a silent, brooding air about her. Imagine that: a baby, analyzing. The authorities would have a field day with this one.

Like they would if they found out about how she refused to be breastfed, evading all of Machi’s attempts with impressive head maneuvers until she was finally presented with a bottle. 

Or about how she was already able to toddle around the house at the ripe age of five months after practically forcing her tiny baby legs to cooperate - and actually succeeded after a mere few weeks. 

Or about how she had been teaching herself to read for months now, going through books far too advanced for her age like they were going out of style.

Or about how she shook her head any time Machi tried to address her by the names she picked out for her, the ungrateful brat.

How did Machi feel about having a freaky genius child? Not too bad, honestly. It was less work for her and she felt pretty good having been responsible for creating something so intelligent. Even if it was a collaboration effort with her ex.

She looked at the kid again, wearily, and found her looking back with those creepy little eyes. Cute kid, if you ignored the deadpan stares. And the weirdly long limbs, fingers, and toes. She could work with this. 

Steeling herself, Machi put on the most loving smile she could muster and cooed. 

“You’re a funny one aren’t you, little gibbon.”

The gibbon in question blinked owlishly back up at her. If Machi didn’t know any better she’d say it looked unimpressed with her attempt at being motherly. 

She was going to continue with the weird mushy baby talk until the kid opened her mouth and responded with a flat “Thanks.”

Responded. As in spoke. 

What the fuck.

All the confidence she gained earlier wavered and it was all she could do to keep the smile up on her face (though it was probably more like a grimace now). If she didn’t smoke herself to an early grave, this kid would definitely be the death of her. 

Until then all she could do was try her best to play house with what felt like a small adult trapped in a tiny baby’s body.

“No problem, kid.”

_____

  
  


A few months later was when she was told that the little tyke wanted to be called ‘Lee.’ Machi was impressed until she realized she had to update all of their legal documents. Little shit.

_____

  
  


The first thing Lee learned about being a baby was that she hated it. 

Being tiny and helpless sucked, and not for the first time she wished that infantile amnesia would kick in and save her from perpetual boredom. Sadly, it did not, and for the first couple months she was stuck in a continuous cycle of eating, sleeping, and shitting. 

At least now she understood why babies spend so much of their time crying.

If she wasn’t concerned about infantile head trauma, she would bang her skull against a wall just to have something to do. It would certainly be more productive than all the sitting and lying down she was forced to go through.

One of the main problems of being a baby was that she had no idea how to play the part. It’s not like she could remember what it was like the first time around, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to do the whole goo-goo ga-ga thing. Not being able to wipe her own ass was humiliating enough.

If it was any consolation, though, she was 99% sure her new mom had no idea what she was doing either. She tried to hide it around Lee but she was able to tell when she was having a particularly rough day in the deepened lines around her eyes and mouth. Lee wondered if it had anything to do with the significant lack of father figures in the vicinity.

Or maybe that just a fanfiction protagonist thing; built-in daddy issues.

This new mom was vastly different from her old one. First of all, the new one was Japanese, which was the most obvious of many, many differences. 

Old mom had been the epitome of perfection: straight-laced, polite, graceful, without a single hair out of place. New mom… wasn’t.

New mom spoke loudly and without restraint, which was reflected in basically all other aspects of her life: her cluttered room, her expressive clothing, even her cooking (meaning she was terrible at it). She smoked and had at least two tattoos (that Lee could see) and overall seemed - hm.

Pretty chill actually. Except for the whole smoking thing.

The smell didn’t bother her. No, it was the hacking cough that was barely stifled by fisted fingers that bothered Lee more than anything else (it was fucking loud). Sometimes new mom would fold nearly in half with the force of her nicotine-induced wheezing and sound ready to upchuck a lung, and then go to do something completely normal like washing the dishes afterwards. 

This told Lee that it was a normal occurrence, so she just mostly ignored it; it was easy to do by the end of the first week or so. Only her grandfather had been a smoker in her past life, and she just assumed it was because he was old, tired, and ready to pass on his inheritance. 

New mom looked pretty young in comparison, now that she thought about it. Having been only 22 herself when she kicked the bucket, by comparison the woman looked to be in her mid-twenties. Probably 25, at most. 

That seemed pretty young to be having kids, but Lee hadn’t yet been able to factor in the cultural aspects of this new existence so that point may or may not be moot.

Speaking of, Lee hadn’t been able to do much exploration or research since her trip back from the hospital, being a useless little sack of bones and all. So far, all she knew was that new mom spoke Japanese and… yeah that was pretty much it. It took an excruciatingly long amount of time (a month) for Lee to be able to establish a baseline word bank of vocabulary to draw from with her already minimal stores stocked by anime. It wasn’t like she could just tell her mom to sign her up for DuoLingo or something because she wasn’t sure it even existed anymore (which she wouldn’t want either way because that owl was frankly terrifying).

At first, most of her Japanese came from new mom herself, as well as the radio and talk shows she put on while Lee was vibing in her high chair (i.e. the one part of being tiny that was actually enjoyable). While it wasn’t much, it was enough to communicate basic ideas in clipped phrases to her single parental figure. Ideas like how she wanted a book on beginner’s Japanese grammar (she had been 4 months old). 

Luckily, the language’s phonetic alphabet didn’t seem that different from Korean, and she was able to speak a little bit of that thanks to her dad. 

The old one, not the new one. What was the past tense of dad? Dade? Dead? Hm.

Now, at eight months old, she was confident in her casual conversational skills, but was still a little shaky on certain bits of more complex grammar and vocabulary that had her stewing in silent ire within the confines of her little crib. She had thought she was done with learning language after undergrad. Oh how wrong she had been.

With virtually nothing to do during the day and many sleepless nights, a good 3-5 hours a day ( _ at least _ ) were being put into studying these new concepts. Her days were spent either practicing the new language with her new mom, or working on increasing mobility in her new body. 

Lee was beginning to get very sick of new. 

She poked absently at today’s breakfast: applesauce. Another shitty part of being pint-sized was the lack of good food. Lee was never going to look at milk the same again (not that she was planning on doing it anyways; everybody knows only psychopaths casually drink straight-up milk). 

Her eyes burned from a lack of sleep the night before practicing handwriting. It was going much slower than her progress with speech, unfortunately. Her useless little fingers could barely maneuver the pencil well enough or exert enough pressure to write the characters effectively. 

The sound of the kitchen’s crusty old coffee maker drew her gaze away from the bowl of mush and she eyed it wistfully. New mom shuffled lethargically around the counters to put together her own meal and drink stopping by the maker with a mug. She was so out of it that she barely acknowledged the intense stares she was receiving from her daughter.

How long had it been since Lee’s last hot cup of bean juice? Probably since the day she died, so almost a year. Shit. 

If she didn’t want to completely fuck up her growth charts (and by taking a look at new mom, genetics were already not on her side), the coffee would have to wait… but only for at most a decade. Caffeine was a hell of a drug and Lee was  _ thirsty _ . 

She sighed, resigned to a fate of withdrawal and exhaustion. Just another tic for new mom to add to the list of ‘things wrong with my baby.’ ‘Addiction’ would be a nice addition to the already growing inventory of issues her little 8-month-old self had. 

At least she could still enjoy the smell.

New mom flipped on the small kitchen radio as she passed it, coffee in hand. The voice Lee heard coming out of it made her whip her head around in surprise. 

It was a station that Lee wasn’t very familiar with and seemed less mainstream than most of the ones the radio defaulted to (it sounded more crackly). However, she would recognize that shouty, boisterous, DJ-esque voice anywhere, even if it sounded a little high-pitched.

_ “- anks for tuning in listeners! Nothing like a little Pitbull to spice up your mornings! It’s now 6:00 AM in the Musutafu area and the sun is shining! I -” _

Spotty with random patches of English, over-the-top inflections, and a preference for trashy 2000s pop music? A toothless smirk spread across her face as the pieces put themselves together. 

That was Present Mic, this was My Hero Academia, and Lee was fucking hyped. 

Not that she was complaining. She’d take superpowers and heroes over the looming threat of a nationwide civil war any day. Hero, villain, or vigilante, her future was already brighter than it ever would have been in her last life.

Dying might have been the best thing to ever happen to her.

“Uh… you good there kid?” Lee realized she wasn’t alone in the kitchen and the smile across her face (if you could even call it that) was probably a little unsettling. She forced her expression back to neutrality and resumed messing with her applesauce.

“Yeah,” was her simple response. It took all of her self restraint not to stand up and do a little dance. She swung her short legs from up in the high chair instead. Epiphany had come in the form of a screaming, cockatoo-haired angel, and it was glorious. 

Lee was just reincarnated into a fictional universe and she wasn’t even going to question it. 

“Hey.”

“Yeah, gibbon?” Lee found the nickname a little funny, considering she never really had any in her first life (unless “asshole” counted).

“Do you have a quirk?”

The small woman stopped in her motions of pulling bread out of a bag and eyed her daughter warily and that’s when Lee realised,  _ “shit, I shouldn’t know what those are yet.” _ Then again, she tended to show an affinity for knowing things she definitely shouldn’t. They had both gotten used to it.

New mom appeared to share the same sentiment because she shrugged and muttered something about a  _ “creepy prodigy baby” _ before returning to making toast. 

One of the best things about new mom was that she never questioned the weird and often psychopathic tendencies of her own child. She knew nothing about being a mother and it was pretty nice.

“Nope.” 

“Okay.”

And then they ate breakfast together. 

Compared to her old household, this silence was more comfortable than awkward and suffocating ones that used to fall over the table at mealtime. It was easier to think.

From what Lee remembered from the show, it was rather rare to be quirkless: less than 25% of the population, or something like that. Given the anomaly’s genetic minority, it was unlikely that Lee would inherit the quirkless genes. Hopefully.

Nothing against quirkless people, but it would kind of suck to be born into a world of superheroes and not be able to be a part of it. The age of quirk manifestation was around four, so she still had over three years between now and then. She liked to think that was ample time for her genes to conquer a recessive trait.

While she could spend her days drilling new mom about her lineage and the one that got away for some quirk history, she decided against it. She would call it a surprise fourth birthday present (or lack thereof, but she was being optimistic for once). 

Well, that and the fact that she wanted to avoid awkward conversations about “why is daddy gone” at all costs, especially when Lee could tell new mom was still upset about him. Consoling crying people was not one of her strong suits. 

She’d wait a few years to drop that bomb at the dinner table.

Until then it was mastering Japanese speaking, reading, writing, and gaining dexterity in this sucky little body. She scowled accusingly at her unsteady hand as it knocked her plastic bowl of applesauce off of the high chair tray for the umpteenth time that month.

“Shit,” new mom hissed, rushing to wipe the fruity mess off of the floor.

“Shit,” Lee repeated, enthusiastic to add a new word to her growing vocabulary.

“No -!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider the following:  
> \- Catholic church fandom - please don't come for me in the comments. It was a joke.  
> \- This is entirely self-indulgent.  
> \- I put quotes from songs at the beginning of each chapter that I feel match the vibe. There's currently no playlist, but I can make one. Be warned though: my music preferences are a bit of an acquired taste,  
> \- I know next to nothing about children, especially babies, so none of the story's information is accurate. Google came in handy for this one.  
> \- Creative liberties will be taken.  
> \- I'm open to suggestions that I may or may not take.  
> \- The tags aren't complete. I'll add to them as we go.  
> \- I'm currently a student, so my posting schedule will be erratic and unreliable.  
> \- I only write for fun and have no beta. There will be errors.  
> \- I'm new to ao3. Please be patient with me.  
> \- Don't be a bitch in the comments. I know how garbage this fandom can get. I can and will turn the comments off.  
> \- Don't like, don't read.
> 
> Thanks.  
> ~Chris


	2. Life is good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own BNHA.
> 
> “Working on a weekend like usual/Way off in the deep end like usual/****** swear they passed us, they doin’ too much/Haven’t done my taxes, I’m too turnt up” - Drake

Honestly, Lee was a little peeved at herself for neglecting to realize that new mom, a single mother in futuristic anime Japan with hospital bills to pay off, had a job. Because of course she had one. 

Apparently in the months after finding out she was pregnant and was confident that she wasn’t going to abort Lee, the woman had worked overtime, budgeted like hell, and stockpiled her savings and vacation time so she could have extended leave to take care of her child without starving to death. And while she was flattered, nearly a year later Lee was beginning to notice some of their financial shortcomings. 

The apartment they lived in only had one small bedroom and bathroom, as well as a small kitchen and dining room (the whole place was small). The heating and cooling systems never seemed to be working properly, leaving it freezing cold in the winter and uncomfortably warm in the summer. A patchy paint-job and a faint musty smell that was mostly covered up by the smell of new mom’s cigarettes really brought the whole place together.

Lee didn’t really care. She was just glad she didn’t have to pay rent.

At least, she didn’t care until it started affecting the groceries. When their loud little refrigerator was looking devoid of apple juice she finally caved and confronted new mom with her rapidly improving conversational Japanese. The exchange went something like this:

“Yo.”

“Hey, kid.”

“I know we’re poor. Go to work or something.”

“Ouch. And no.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t leave a one-year-old alone in my apartment.”

“What am I going to do, commit arson? I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but the neighbors won’t. I’d get CPS called on me if I left an infant alone in my apartment for an extended period of time.”

“Right…”

“...”

“...”

“Day care?”

“You’ll owe me five cartons of apple juice. The big ones.”

“A baby-sitter, then.”

“... three cartons.”

“Deal.” They shook on it (Lee’s hand looking comically tiny compared to Machi’s).

And so, Lee’s blissful days of being left alone to her reading, T-V watching, and radio-listening came to an end. 

After the radio incident four months ago where she accidentally found out about her apparent transmigration into a child of the fictional My Hero Academia universe, she spent most of her time learning.

Weeks upon weeks of consuming media left her in a state of near-constant exhaustion. She watched the news daily, regularly listened to several radio shows (a young Present Mic’s being her all time favorite), read books both fiction and non-fiction on topics ranging from hero society laws to tales of heroes past, all the while continuing her self-governed Japanese lessons. And through it all, Lee could unironically say she was having a good time.

Heroes were interesting, as were the new rules and cultures of this world. New mom began granting her several hours of internet access a day through the family computer, a clunky thing that sounded like a running dishwasher most of the time. 

Lee spent that designated ‘computer time’ on online forums meant for discussing heroes or watching clips of hero/villain/vigilante conflicts and man. That shit was awesome.

She now understood why Izuku Midoriya dedicated so much of his life to admiring heroes, because it was really cool - even if he took it to some obsessive, stalker-ish extremes.

It became normal for new mom to find her at odd hours of the morning or night, passed out on the floor while a  _ Plus Ultra!: U.A. High Sports Festival Highlights _ compilation blared on the background. After that had happened the first time, new mom took it upon herself to become Lee’s recommendation encyclopedia. Lee had to admit, new mom’s taste in hero movies was elite (the Crimson Riot biopic series was especially awesome: very manly). 

They didn’t own a car, but every so often new mom would take Lee on the train with her to a library, where she would hole herself up for hours in a fort of books. The head librarian there was a familiar face and would often put in his own recommendations he thought Lee would enjoy. The look on his face when he first realized that the books Ms. Fujii was checking out were for her one-year-old daughter was priceless. 

From what she was able to garner from a combination of online and physical sources, the My Hero Academia universe appeared to be exactly like the one she died in, but several years in the future and containing the presence of quirks. All of the products and historical figures she was familiar with still existed as well as most of the music, which was really nice. The only thing that didn’t was anime, but that made sense because if it did that would probably be some sort of weird inception. 

Boy had new mom been in for a shock when she found Lee blasting shitty 2017 rap throwbacks at seven in the morning. 

Lee’s judgement of where she was in regards to My Hero Academia itself put her about fifteen years before the original show’s timeline. By this logic, Present Mic and Eraserhead’s class was still at U.A. (which explained why Mic’s voice was cracking and why his radio show was so low-budget), and All Might was still back in America (probably with David Shield). 

This also meant that she was around the age of the main character and his Class 1-A homies. If Lee wished to also be one of said homies, she would have to aim for a top spot in the U.A. entrance exam when the time came in 14 years. For an optimum epic anime experience, there was no way in hell Lee was aiming for anything else.

Which also meant that Lee needed some way to directly involve herself in the plot before then, whether it be through befriending a character or being in the right place at the right time. 

The place thing, she had down already. Her hometown was Musutafu: the same one that Midoriya and Bakugou were shown as living in, in the show.

However, she was in a decidedly poorer area than those two plus the fact that she was still a small child that would probably get weird looks if she tried to seek them out by herself. 

Luckily, her dilemma solved itself when she was dropped off at a neighbors house for babysitting a week before her first birthday. 

A stocky, round-faced woman looking to be around the same age as new mom came to the door with a wide smile. In her arms was another little kid with the same brown hair and round face as her mother that looked incredibly familiar. 

“Ah, Machi! It’s good to see you,” the woman exclaimed (Machi must be new mom’s name - good to know). “It’s been forever hasn’t it? Taking care of these little ones and all.” She gestured to first the kid in her own arms and then to Lee.

Machi laughed and bent down to ruffle Lee’s hair, which she scowled at and tried to dodge. “It really has. Thanks again for doing this, Emiko. I seriously owe you one.”

Emiko’s smile seemed to get impossibly wider as she waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. Meeting Lee is payment enough.” 

“Thanks, Emi,” Machi sighed, a little bit of the tension bleeding out of her frame. “Give my regards to Hiroshi as well, when he gets back.”

“Of course,” Emiko agreed pleasantly, bouncing her baby on her hip. “I’ll be sure to let him know. We’ve missed you all these months. This weekend you should come over for dinner so we can catch up! For old times’ sake.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Machi said. She crouched down to ruffle Lee’s hair again. “Have fun at Uraraka-san’s house, okay gibbon? Remember your manners, and  _ behave _ .”

Uraraka? Lee could work with Uraraka. She nodded, trying not to show any of the triumph she felt at barely having to work to already meet a Dekusquad member. “Sure, Machi.”

The hair-ruffling became excessively rough for a second before Machi stood up muttering “little shit” and waving at Emiko before walking towards the stairwell.

Lee glanced back at Emiko, who was looking a little confused (and decided to mess with her - oh, you’re confused? Watch this). She bowed her head with what was definitely a fake smile and said in perfectly grammatically correct Japanese. “Nice to meet you, Uraraka-san. Thanks for baby-sitting me.” With no inflections.

When she raised her head, Emiko already had her trademark smile pasted on her face, but it looked strained (Lee: 1, Emiko: 0). Lee wondered how fucking exhausting it was to be so pleasant all the time. 

“It’s no trouble at all, dear. Please call me Emiko.”

_____

  
  


Uraraka Emiko liked to think of herself as a very loving person. 

She loved her husband, her daughter, and all of her friends. She even loved most of her neighbors, despite the fact that one of them had been playing explicit trap music very loudly at some ungodly hour of the morning last month. 

Emiko loved Machi Fujii, who classified as both her friend and her neighbor, but lord have mercy, what the everloving hell was she teaching her child?!

It was no secret that Machi was what most people would call a “train-wreck” when it came to responsibility. She was disorganized, forgetful, crude, and had one of the shortest tempers Emiko had ever witnessed on an adult woman. And yet…

She had had a kid. 

It had definitely come as a surprise, especially given the mess that was Machi and Kentaro’s relationship (Emiko and Hiroshi had been able to hear the yelling despite being three doors down from them). However, it was clear that the child was theirs. 

Lee had Machi’s hair and eyes, but her father’s coloring and bone structure. Not to mention she had some of the longest limbs Emiko had ever seen on a child of her size, accounting for about 70% of her tiny frame. 

She sometimes wondered if it was ever very difficult for Machi to see so much of that man in her own daughter, but then tamped the thought down ferociously. Machi might not have been responsible, but she was far from cruel; the girl was her daughter and she would treat her as such. Especially if Emiko had anything to say about it.

Poor Machi had been practically out of commission when Kentaro left, barely able to take care of herself. Emiko would know; she was the one supplying her with hot meals every few days. It was weeks before she was back to her usual loud self, and even now she’s not fully recovered. 

That’s what heartbreak does to people, Emiko guesses. She’s certainly had her fair share of it. Maybe (hopefully) Lee’s arrival was exactly what Machi needed to help her on the road to emotional recovery.

When Emiko opened the door to greet them, she had looked at Machi to greet her, but then craned her neck a significant distance downward to see Lee. At first, she was a little appalled at Machi for neglecting to carry her own child. But upon looking closer she could tell that Lee was supporting herself amazingly well for a one-year-old. 

The little thing had on a hoodie that was too large on her petite shoulders and some leggings to protect her from the dropping temperatures outside. A backpack of what Emiko assumed was her entertainment for the day was slung over one of her shoulders (one, not two). Her face was the epitome of boredom, giving off the air that she wanted to be anywhere but here.

All in all it was a very distinguished yet casual look that not many kids, let alone  _ toddlers _ would be able to pull off. 

The confusion on Emiko’s face only grew when Machi not only spoke to the kid like she was much older than she appeared to be, but  _ genuinely smiled _ at her (it had been literal years since Emiko had last seen that smile). Just to top it off she called her a “little shit” before walking away, leaving Emiko thoroughly lost. 

It was just her and Lee in the hallway at the point, Ochaco cradled in her arms. The “little shit” seemed to notice her bewilderment and put on the fakest smile Emiko had ever had the honor of seeing on a child of her size. 

Lee’s bow gave her enough time to school her face back into a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Uraraka-san. Thanks for baby-sitting me,” the literal one-year-old child said to her in perfect, inflectionless Japanese. 

It was fucking exhausting being so pleasant all the time.

“It’s no trouble at all, dear. Please call me Emiko.”

Except it  _ was _ trouble. That was the problem. When Machi had told Lee to  _ behave _ , Emiko was expecting a minor temper or behavioral problem. Hell, even a major temper problem would have been manageable. Heaven knows her mother had one.

No, this toddler was playing  _ mind games  _ with her. 

It’s not that Lee was in any way blatantly disrespectful. If anything, she was a little  _ too _ respectful. She talked very politely and addressed Emiko by the proper honorifics and everything, but…

Lee was not even one year old. 

Emiko could use her own daughter, Ochaco, as a reference. Ochaco was almost a year old, her birthday being two days after Lee’s. And Emiko could say very proudly that her daughter was a perfectly normal toddler. 

Ochaco could stand on her own, but it wasn’t something she could keep up for prolonged periods of time. Not to mention she had only taken her first solo steps a month ago. Watching Lee standing there with what looked like little to no effort was like a slap to the face: all smug confidence, like she knew what she was doing wasn’t normal and she was waiting for somebody to call her out on it. 

The talking was another matter entirely. Ochaco had just barely progressed past the “mama” “dada” phase and moved onto the one where her favorite word was “no.” From what Emiko could tell, Lee was able to hold completely coherent conversations with adults. 

And then there was the matter of the eyebags that looked like they would fit the face of a washed-up college student more than that of a literal child. Emiko was definitely going to have a chat with Machi later about appropriate sleep schedules for children, because it looked like she needed a reminder. 

There was an air to her that made it feel like she was so much older than she actually was, and it was mildly terrifying. The fact that the kid was  _ aware _ of that made it all the more creepy.

It seemed like Lee was trying her best to freak Emiko out in everything she did, which started with flaunting one of the heavy-looking books she pulled out of her backpack. The sight of her struggling to hold it in her tiny hands would have been comical if Emiko wasn’t so concerned for the kid’s general safety. 

Getting a glance at the title was definitely a bad idea.  _ Worldwide Hero Registry by Country: rankings and general stats _ . The kid got a glance at her face and snarked a flat: “Just some light reading.”

Emiko was beginning to regret taking on this babysitting gig free of charge. Her face was hurting from all the smiling.

_____

  
  


Hiroshi Uraraka was very confused to see his usually peppy wife in such a state of distress when he returned home from work. 

Then he met one Lee Fujii, and suddenly wasn’t so confused anymore.

_____

  
  


Lee’s new weekly schedule went something like this: 

Monday through Friday from 7:30 AM to 5:30 PM were spent at the Urarakas’ when Machi went to work. There, she would crack open her bag of books acquired over the weekend and indulge in some “light reading” for a couple hours a day. 

The Uraraka parents alternated staying home with Lee and Ochaco so they could run their construction company. 

On days when Hiroshi watched them, he would take them to a local park where Ochaco taught Lee a game called ‘heroes and villains.’ Basically, Lee got to chase Ochaco around for an hour while the kid screamed and laughed and tried to stop her from assassinating the prime minister. It was surprisingly fun, for a children’s game.

Every day she was with her, Emiko fed her lunch. The woman had committed to it after Lee made a not-so-subtle dig at her new mom’s deplorable cooking skills (something about “Machi, I swear to god you don’t  _ feed _ this child. Look at her! She’s practically wasting away! You both are coming over for dinner Saturday!”). 

Lee had gotten scolded pretty badly for manipulating her babysitter, but the uncomfortable look on Machi’s face as Emiko threateningly scooped yet another serving of fried rice onto her plate made it entirely worth it. That, and the fact that Emiko’s cooking was the food of the gods.

Weekends were spent with Machi, listening to the radio, watching hero movies, going to the library, and shopping (mostly for groceries - Lee enjoyed sitting in the cart). 

Her first birthday passed without much fanfare. Machi bought them an apple pie to share and gave her a quirk registry encyclopedia.

Apparently she was born on December 25th. A Christmas birthday, brown hair, rebirth, and a mostly absent dad? Lee was practically Jesus. All she needed was one of those robe thingies he always wore in the paintings.

When she told Machi about her comparison, the woman laughed so hard that she started coughing in that horrible hacking way she sometimes did after smoking too much (Lee wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing so she just ignored it like she usually did).

Ochaco’s birthday had come two day after Lee’s, and her and Machi were invited to the Urarakas’ for dinner and cake. Apparently, Ochaco had a near unhealthy obsession with martial arts movies and had been given a box of action figures of heroes from Bruce Lee to the up-and-coming Combat Hero: Left Hook. 

Lee (using Machi’s credit card) gifted her the entire movie trilogy of Kung Fu Panda. Ochaco then proceeded to watch all of them in one night and then forced Lee to watch at least one a week with her for the next three years.

It would have been cute if Lee wasn’t painfully aware of Emiko snapping photos of them and cackling from the next room over. For her next birthday, Emiko smugly watched as Lee unwrapped a whole ass album of photos of Lee and Ochaco in front of the TV, wearing their hero pajamas (Lee: 1, Emiko: 1). Ochaco’s favorite was a Gang Orca onesie that Emiko often had to pry off of her to wash (“But Mommy -  _ Big fishy _ !”). Lee preferred her Lunch Rush t-shirt, but only because Present Mic wasn’t a pro yet and it would probably be weird if a two year old suddenly became one of four regular buyers on the hero-in-training’s merch site.

That, and the glaringly obvious fact that Lee and Machi were somewhere between lower-class and straight up broke. Despite how their living conditions had improved slightly after Machi started going back to work, the apartment complex they lived in was still old and shitty. Even the part of Musutafu the building resided in could be considered “shady,” and Machi always took Lee to the wealthier parts of town for the park or library.

The grocery stores in their area were fine food-wise; Lee just wasn’t allowed to leave the cart by herself. 

Upon doing some digging during ‘computer time,’ Lee discovered the crime rates of their Eastern side of Musutafu and grudgingly stopped bitching so much about grocery store autonomy. 

Apparently Machi worked five to six days a week as one of two full-time employees of a local general store that sold everything from cigarettes to instant ramen. It was most notorious for its wide selection of soft drinks, though - their Sparkling Green Apple Cider was a personal favorite at the Fujii household. One time when Machi had to work a Saturday, she brought Lee with her.

The store was small and stuffed, with big, neon red lettering across the entrance that said: Yoda’s Soda in all caps. The fluorescent apostrophe was falling off and blinked irregularly once it got dark (Lee liked it). 

Machi seemed happy when she told her as much, but her usually devilish grin looked emptier compared to how it normally was.

That night, Lee used computer time to research workplace quirkless discrimination and woke up the next morning with a sour taste in her mouth that not even Yoda’s Soda could remedy.

Machi later saw that night’s search history and confronted Lee about several verbal smackdowns found under Machi’s username in the comment sections of Quirkist twitter posts. Lee played dumb and cracked a dirty joke that got her computer time for the day revoked (even though they both knew it was an evasion tactic, it was never brought up again).

For her third birthday, Machi got Lee her own computer. It was a small laptop that was definitely at least secondhand. 

Machi shoved it into her lap Christmas Eve morning and said: “Make your own damn twitter account, brat.”

Lee saw it for what it was (a thank-you gift) and expressed her own gratitude by not protesting when Machi roughed her knuckles through her shaggy hair. 

Lee got back at her for it 20 hours later by blasting Wham!’s: Last Christmas at top volume on her new device at the ass crack of dawn.

They both paid the price the next day at Christmas dinner when Emiko passive aggressively shoveled fried chicken onto their already-overflowing plates. Hiroshi spectated with a giggling Ochaco in his lap and made unhelpfully cheerful comments on his wife’s amazing cooking.

Life was going pretty well for a reboot, Lee thought as yet another drumstick toppled off the growing KFC tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I don't know that much about Japanese culture. Sorry to anybody Japanese and offended. 
> 
> Omake:
> 
> Machi: Okay, Lee. We're going to meet the protagonist's love interest, today.  
> Lee: Uh-huh.  
> Machi, who just went over this with her: And what are we going to do?  
> Lee, who wasn't paying attention: Fuck with her mom.  
> Machi: NO-
> 
> Life is good, huh? *does the fuckboy lip-bite* What if I were to... change that?  
> ~Chris


	3. The high road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own BNHA.
> 
> “‘Cause they know and so do I/The high road is hard to find/A detour in your new life/Tell all of your friends goodbye” - Broken Bells

It was Christmas Eve, the day before Lee’s fourth birthday, and she was exhausted.

The night before had been spent obsessively sifting through a recently compiled archive of All Might’s latest battles. Most of the videos were shaky and poorly shot (probably because they were taken in a literal disaster area), but Lee could say that she was thoroughly impressed with discount Captain America.

The patriotic hero had made his Japan debut around the same time he was invited to a holiday hero expo in Tokyo. 

That was a week ago, and social media platforms were already flooded with images and clips of his tireless work. The dude constantly seemed to be on his grind, which Lee could definitely get behind - there was a reason he was considered the ‘Symbol of Peace’ that was so hyped up in the show.

But as much of a badass as All Might was, he was far from Lee’s favorite. After literal years of research on the topic and keeping tabs on any noteworthy up-and-coming heroes-in-training, she was able to compile her own little list of top heroes.

And Present Mic held the top spot. 

Fresh out of U.A., Presentation Michael already worked as a part-time DJ  _ and _ a pro hero. His radio show slapped even more now that his budget increased post-graduation, and his hair was very tall. Lee now owned her very own pair of Official Present Mic Socks and rarely took them off.

“Kid,” Machi wheezed with her teeth around a cigarette. “Take those grimy things off and take a shower before we leave. I can smell you from here.”

Lee simply eyed the cigarette, then looked back at Machi pointedly. Machi choked and started coughing at the slander.

Needless to say Lee did not remove the Present Mic socks before they left to go to the Urarakas’ for the Christmas Eve festivities. 

The two of them shouted out a greeting over the sound of a holiday playlist (that Lee made) and shucked off their shoes at the small apartment’s entryway (Machi grimaced at the sight of the socks). Emiko was bustling around the kitchen, preparing what looked like a straight-up feast. The smells emanating from the oven made Lee’s mouth water.

“Merry Christmas Eve Machi, Lee!” Emiko’s smile could be heard in her voice before they even looked at her, her cheeks rosy and slightly dusted with flour. “You can leave the presents by the couch - just don’t let Ochaco anywhere near them. She’s been a menace lately.”

Machi chuckled breathily. “Noted. This gift, though, should probably stay in the kitchen.”

Emiko’s eyes bulged as she took in the bottle of sake with the ribbon around its middle that Machi was taking out of her bag. 

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” she whispered in awe, already bringing out the shot glasses. “It’s the good stuff, too. You really went all out this year, huh Chi?”

“Uh-huh,” Machi agreed, looking proud of herself. 

Lee decided to leave the room before she got too jealous (alcohol was a treat she was no longer able to enjoy per the law and her toddler body). Ochaco was in her room that was a weird mix of pink and kung-fu posters that all seemed very.. Ochaco. Sweet and simultaneously aggressive. 

“Lee!” The little terror exclaimed, jumping down off of her bed and enveloping Lee in a strangling hug that she definitely inherited from her mother. 

“Cheeks,” Lee said, albeit rather breathlessly with being choked out by a freakishly strong three-year-old. “I saw you yesterday. Chill with the death grip.”

Ochaco reluctantly let go (thank  _ god _ ) and jumped back onto her bed to proudly show off her newest All Might action figure. Its muscular frame was shoved into a frilly barbie dress that looked just about ready to burst at the seams.

“Play with me,” she commanded, looking as serious as possible for somebody with the face of one of those renaissance painting cherubs. 

Lee agreed, but only to avoid the inevitable tickle fight that would have ensued otherwise. 

An hour later Emiko, Machi, and Hiroshi, tipsy and flushed, opened the door to what could only be described as a disaster area. Lee and Ochaco were sitting amidst the chaos, dolls in hand, enacting what looked like an intense battle scene. 

“Foolish mortal!” Lee let out the best evil laugh possible for her high-pitched voice, menacingly waving the barbie she had named Sugma. She was an evil supervillain that had the ability to win. She was a favorite recurring character. 

“With my evil awesomeness, I will kill this hero and take over the world! You shall succumb to the power of Sugma!”

The All Might figurine, still in the frilly dress, hung from the ceiling fan (which was spinning) with an aux cord (nobody knew how it got up there). Ochaco brandished her Tigris figurine just as aggressively as Lee did. “No! I won’t let you! With the power of friendship I’ll defeat you and save Princess All Might!”

Lee sneered. “Come at me then,  _ hero _ .”

Just as the two of them were winding up to throw themselves at each other, Emiko cleared her throat. They paused mid monologue, turning to face the unwelcome intruders. 

“What?!” Ochaco shrieked indignantly, still looking like she wanted to jump Lee. Lee was slowly inching backwards in anticipation.

“Uh.. Food’s ready, kids,” Machi said, her voice wavering with barely-contained laughter. “You can play pretend after you finish your dinner.”

Lee took their distraction as an opportunity to escape, dropping Sugma and running to the dining room. She could hear Ochaco’s betrayed squawk and the parents’ laughter from all the way down the hallway. 

Dinner was, as per tradition, KFC and a seemingly infinite amount of side dishes that Emiko had spent all afternoon preparing. Lee, not for the first time, cursed her small body for not being able to fit more into it. Machi laughed at Lee’s mournful glaring at the chicken (which quickly dissolved into a wretched coughing fit that left Hiroshi patting her on the back helplessly while Emiko ran for the cough drops). 

Ochaco was always sleepier after food, so thankfully Lee didn’t have to prepare for any sneak attack once the table was cleared. They went back to her room and hunkered down on the bed with full bellies and smiles on their lips. 

“Lee?”

Lee blinked lazily at Ochaco, who looked like she was minutes away from passing out. “Yeah cheeks?”

“Can you tell me a story?” Lee blinked, but less lazily and more confused. 

“Why?”

“Kaa-san and Tou-san tell me stories ‘fore I fall asleep,” Ochaco mumbled sheepishly. “An’ I’m boutta fall asleep an’ you’re here, so…”

Her logic was sound, what could Lee say (it was definitely not because she had the face of a literal angel, nope, not at all). 

“Once…” Lee licked her lips thoughtfully. She was far from original, most of her ideas coming from things she’d seen online or on television - but then a thought hit her. Anime didn’t exist here, right? Lee’s hesitance turned into a smirk.

“There was a really strong hero. People called him the strongest man in the world - so strong that he could defeat any villain with one punch…”

Ochaco had passed out by the time Lee had gotten halfway through narrating what she remembered from season one. She got up, yawning and stretching her small arms so hard they popped, and left the room to where Machi, Emiko, and her husband were hanging out, mildly drunk on the couch. 

“Oi,” Lee interrupted. “Get some water and get up, Machi. It’s late and I don’t want you hungover on my birthday.”

Hiroshi looked over at her, bewildered for a second in his intoxicated stupor before he realized. “Right. Forgot your kid was a genius, Chi.”

“Don’t tell it to her face, she’ll get cocky,” Machi complained, getting up and heading to the door to get her shoes. She started coughing hard before she got there, doubling over and covering her mouth as the wheezes forced their way out of her. 

“Ugh,” she groaned, wiping her lips on the back of her hand. “Damn lungs.”

“Language,” Emiko absently reminded her. “And take some medicine when you get home. That cough has gotten worse and I don’t want you getting us sick, too.”

Lee didn’t have the heart to tell her it was a chronic thing and pulled her own shoes on. 

“Yeah, whatever  _ mom _ ,” Machi grumbled, then yelped as she dodged the slipper that Emiko chucked at her. It smacked the wall near Lee’s head and she bit out a disgruntled: “Watch it, lady.”

“The disrespect,” Emiko lamented, “is immeasurable. I slaved all day making food for your family, and this is the thanks I get? For shame.”

Machi flipped her off in response before walking out the door and Lee followed, flashing Emiko one of those fake smiles she hated and saying “thanks for dinner, auntie” before ducking out as well. She could hear Hiroshi trying to calm his aggravated wife through the door and her fake smile turned genuine. Another point for Lee (she was now winning in their little game of wits by three whole points).

Lee’s unusually good mood persisted until she was in her old Lunch Rush tee and getting ready for bed. Machi seemed to notice, a little more sober now that she’d chugged some water and smiled with some weird emotion that Lee couldn’t identify. 

She directed a deadpan stare at Machi. “What? Do I have chicken on my face?”

“No.” Machi shook her head, still making that weird expression. Lee shrugged and decided that since she couldn’t understand it, she would ignore it.

“Tomorrow’s the day, huh?”

Lee grunted her affirmative. 

“You excited, gibbon?”

“Yeah.”

“What if…” Machi sounded a little hesitant, as if she was struggling to choose the right words. Lee was tired and done with the cheesy conversation.

“Spit it out, woman.”

“Manners, brat,” Machi warned in a tone that said she wasn’t afraid to inflict punishment, even if the next day was Lee’s birthday (Lee would know - it had happened before). “I was just going to ask what you were going to do if you woke up without a quirk. You know, like I did.”

Lee yawned rudely before answering. “Probably eat breakfast. Maybe read a little bit afterwards.”

“ _ Lee _ .” Oops. Out came the first name. Lee had committed one too many fuckeries for one night.

She made eye contact with Machi from where she was barely two and a half feet off of the ground. “I’ll do nothing, because it won’t change anything. Plastic surgeons make way more money than pros, anyways.”

Machi looked surprised, yet pleased. Lee took that as her signal to go to bed.

She shuffled from the room, dragging her Present-Mic-sock-clad feet across the floor, and stopped at the doorway to their shared room (that Machi had hung a curtain in the middle of for some semblance of privacy). 

“Merry Christmas, Chi.”

Machi, despite the informal address, smiled. “You too, kid.”

_____

  
  


Lee woke up Christmas afternoon expecting the odors of Christmas brunch to reach her nose (because she had stayed up too late watching hero stuff again, dammit) but smelled nothing instead. Huh.

Rubbing her eyes, she stumbled out of her side of the room and into the kitchen. All of the lights were off and none of the appliances were making any noise. Not even the old piece of shit coffee maker was sputtering like it usually did.

Lee began to get a bad feeling in her stomach as she wandered around the cold, empty house. 

“Machi?” 

The word echoed around the dining room despite it being so tiny and Lee frowned, unsettled. She backtracked to the bedroom, thoughts racing.

After pulling the dividing curtain back Lee could see Machi’s short frame outlined under her blanket. What the fuck? 

“Oi, old lady,” Lee called, approaching the bed carefully. “Don’t tell me you’re that hung over. Thought I told you to…”

From what Lee could see, Machi was still asleep - but then again, Lee was barely clearing 2’6’’ on a good day. She clambered up onto the mattress.

“Chi?”

She pressed a finger to her cheek, but then recoiled it quickly. It was cold. Suppressing the urge to curse loudly and disturb the neighbors, Lee used all her strength to shift Machi’s head to where she could see all of it and.. Shit.

There was blood spattered on the pillow and the woman’s lips, giving Lee a very much not appreciated horror movie vibe. She quickly put one hand under her nose and the other at a point on her neck. She was still breathing and her pulse was there, but both were faint and shallow.

Lee fell backwards off of the bed in her hurry to get to the phone. 

Five minutes later, the feds showed up. A minute after that, Lee had somehow convinced the paramedics to let her ride in the ambulance at Machi’s side. All she had done was scowl at them hard and they backed off, looking a little pale. Lee wasn’t sure what was so intimidating about a freaked out four year old, but took the opportunity anyways (she glared because she was pissed; she never actually expected them to let her in). 

All she had on her was the clothes on her back, and Machi’s smartphone and earbuds shoved into her jacket pocket.

When they arrived at the hospital, Machi was rushed to the intensive care unit while Lee was left in the waiting room with a strung-out looking receptionist. The dude looked dead on his feet, like the last thing he wanted to do was comfort a hysterical child, so Lee spared him the effort. She retreated to one of the waiting room chairs, clambered up onto it (because it was just slightly too tall for Lee to get onto comfortably), shoved Machi’s shitty old earbuds into her ears, and waited. If she directed her sullen glare towards the distressed-looking receptionist (who in turn began to look even more distressed), then that was her business. 

The music was turned up loud enough so she didn’t have to think too much about the situation. Denial? Who was she? Lee certainly didn’t know her. 

She sat there for what felt like hours until a nurse came into the empty waiting room, holding a clipboard. 

“Fujii Lee?” 

She nodded, pulling the earbuds out and stuffing them and the phone back into her pocket. 

“She dead yet?”

The nurse openly gawked at her and Lee realized that it was probably insensitive to say such a thing in a hospital so she tried again. “Uh… That was a joke.”

The nurse continued to stare, so Lee sighed and tried to gather her thoughts enough to try a second time. “Machi’s always had a cough, but it was worse last night. She also smokes. Her breathing this morning was shallower than usual so I thought maybe something was wrong with her lungs. Like cancer or something. The dead comment was in poor taste. My bad.” Lee concluded her diagnosis with a shrug.

And then remembered that most people aren’t used to four-year-olds knowing about things like lung cancer, nor are they used to them referring to their mothers by their first name. Shit.

Then again, she never had to hide that side of herself around Machi.

The nurse recovered from her stupor relatively quickly and flipped through her clipboard. Luckily, she looked only mildly concerned for Lee’s mental well-being.

“As of right now your mother is in critical condition due to respiratory failure. The main cause appears to be untreated lung cancer. She regained consciousness five minutes ago and is asking for you.” The nurse gave Lee a pitying glance.

“Whether or not you want to go see her right now is up to you, but between you and I? I don’t think she’ll last more than another fifteen minutes.”

Huh? Lee was conflicted. She had been joking when she said Machi was dying, so why was this nurse making it sound like…

_ “I don’t think she’ll last more than another fifteen minutes.” _

Shit. Fuck. 

Lee’s swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Lead the way, boss lady.”

Machi’s room was down the hall, third door on the right from the waiting room. Lee hesitated before going in, steeling herself for what she might see. She was no stranger to hospitals (at least ones from her first life), and she had to say that she was not a fan. She absently wished she had a mask to cover her face and block the smells of antiseptic and blood.

Machi looked even paler than usual against her white hospital sheets. She had an oxygen mask on her mouth and an IV in her arm. The heart monitor at her bedside was the only sound permeating the stillness between her and Lee, beeping steadily. 

Lee was fidgeting uncomfortably in the way she always did when she stood still for too long. Machi noticed and tried to force out a chuckle, but it came out weak, her chest rattling with the effort of it. It was a rough, unpleasant sound that left Lee feeling slightly sick; it had never sounded this bad before.

After a minute or two, Machi finally broke the silence. “You look a lot like him, you know.”

Lee whipped her head up from where she was staring at the hospital floor’s tiles. Her eyes squinted. “Who?”

“Your dad,” Machi clarified. “Not much of a dad, though, huh? Bastard left before you were even born. You have his face.”

Lee swallowed again and  _ goddammit why was her throat so dry? _ “I’m sure that was a real drag for you. Every time you looked at me. Seeing him.”

“Sometimes it was.” The words were spoken so softly that Lee almost missed them (their softness did nothing to stop the bad feelings trying to crawl their way up her throat). 

“Sometimes you looked so much like him, it hurt. It hurt for a long time. It still hurts.” Machi took another gravelly breath. “But as much pain as I felt, every day it lessened. Until I could look at you again and feel something besides loss and regret.”

Lee’s hands were unconsciously clenching and she absently wondered why. She knew she had daddy issues and, to some degree, mommy issues too. This was nothing new.

“It’s going to hurt for a long time, but I promise on what little life I have left that it gets better.”

Fuck, that was corny. 

It took until Machi rasped out another gasping laugh that Lee realized she had said that out loud.

“Always with the jokes,” Machi chuckled. “You got that from me. I’m glad.”

She reached out a frail-looking hand (so fucking small, how had Lee not noticed before?) and gestured for Lee to come closer. She shuffled forward until she was standing at the very edge of the hospital bed. Her head barely cleared the top of the mattress. 

This time when Machi reached out to ruffle her hair, she didn’t protest. 

“Listen, kid.” She was whispering now. “When you go back to the apartment, I want you to open the package I left for you at the foot of your bed. Can you do that for me?”

Lee nodded, a little lost in the moment. “What is it?”

“That would ruin the surprise,” Machi said, trying to smile (it just looked like she was going to cry instead). “Just promise me that whatever you do, don’t let anybody else get their hands on the sacred texts.”

What in the shounen anime protagonist bullshit - 

Instead of voicing her skepticism Lee just nodded again. 

“Thanks, gibbon,” Machi said, voice the quietest it had been all morning. She closed her eyes while Lee wondered why Machi was the one saying ‘thank you’ (Lee wanted to return the favor, but the words kept getting stuck on her tongue).

The two of them sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, but it was by no means uncomfortable. They never really needed words, just a mutual understanding and appreciation for a lack of noise.

Lee never shifted from her position at Machi’s bedside, even as her heart rate flatlined and doctors and nurses flooded the room to rush around and mess with machinery.

Some of them tried to talk to her, all concerned faces and cold hands on shoulders. Lee just ignored them in favor of looking down at the body of her mother for the last time (eyes closed and brown hair fanned out behind her on the pillow) and whispered bitterly:

“That was the worst fucking birthday present, ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake:
> 
> Lee: Hey mom, wake up. It's my birthday.  
> Machi:  
> Lee: Mom?  
> Machi: *isn't breathing*  
> Lee:  
> Lee: So are we having cake, or
> 
> Surprise, shawty.  
> ~Chris


	4. Verbatim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own BNHA or Naruto.
> 
> “I live by a hospital/And every day I go out walking past its sickly windows/I see people dying there/But my tender age makes it hard to care” - Mother Mother

Lee didn’t know what to do with her hands. 

They were decidedly larger than they were at her age in her old life, with long, slender fingers and sizable palms. Yaoi hands. 

The problem was, her jacket pocket was full (with Machi’s phone and earbuds) and her pants didn’t even have pockets so she couldn’t stuff her spindly fingers into them. Letting them dangle by her sides looked very awkward considering the weirdly wide wingspan of her arms, and she wasn’t really a hands-on-hips kind of person. 

She settled for crossing them over her chest as the police officer trying to talk to her about custody finally realized that she wasn’t paying attention.

Lee got the gist of it: she was legally an orphan now with Machi dead and her deadbeat dad still out buying milk. The only household with close enough ties to her own to consider taking her in was the Uraraka family. However, being below a certain pay grade and not having any familial ties took away from their credibility and they would need a lawyer to officially adopt her - which she knew for a fact that they couldn’t afford. 

She’d already made her mind up about going into foster care before the (weirdly considerate) police officer even came into Machi’s hospital room. Lee had been standing in the same spot next to the now empty bed for up to two hours now, coming up with a game plan. 

And the plan started with going back to the apartment and getting those so-called “sacred texts.”

“Hey mister,” Lee said, interrupting the cop in his frustrated attempts to rehash everything that she was ignoring (for the third time). “It’s been a long day. Can I get a ride back home to pack a bag?”

Mister looked both miffed and confused. “A bag? What for?”

“My stuff,” Lee deadpanned. “I don’t think I can legally pay rent yet, so the apartment’s probably going to go up for sale soon. Don’t really want to still be in it when that happens.” She leisurely trudged out of the hospital room, her hands messing with the earbuds in her pocket. 

After a moment of hesitation, the officer followed. His footsteps sounded significantly louder than Lee’s as he caught up to her, their persistent taps echoing around the quiet hallway. She could feel his questioning gaze on her, but he remained silent as they made their way to the lobby. Lee was grateful. 

Officer tightass went up to a dude who looked like his commanding officer and began having a very dramatically gestured conversation with him. The higher-up looked taken aback at some point and glanced over at where Lee was awkwardly standing by the (really tall) hospital doors.

She put on one of those fake smiles Emiko hated and threw up a peace sign. He looked even more taken aback at that and quickly averted his eyes. Lee immediately dropped the smile and flipped him off instead.

Officer tightass came back after another minute and inclined his head in the direction of the doors, signaling for them to go. Lee embarrassingly needed a boost to climb into the passenger seat of his police car because she’d outright refused to be reduced to sitting in the backseat. When the officer was satisfied with her safety, he asked for directions to the apartment and tried to make small talk. Lee grabbed his phone, set a course for the building on google maps, shoved the earbuds into her ears, and ignored him the whole ten minutes there. 

Much to her disappointment, he seemed to be a patient guy; he wasn’t even phased. He simply sat back, sighed, and kept driving. Lee’s legs bounced rapidly in the uncomfortable silence of the car ride, frowning, and for reasons unknown to her, craving the familiarity of a reprimanding scrub to the head. 

She attempted to remedy the steady ache inside by threading her own fingers through her hair. It didn’t help.

There were still police cars outside of the apartment complex, but after another animated conversation between officer tightass and one of the detectives at the scene Lee was allowed to shuffle under the caution tape plastered to the front door.

The apartment felt eerily empty despite its size. Lee didn’t like it. 

She power walked as fast as her short-ass legs could carry her to the bedroom where she made a beeline for the package at the foot of her bed. The curtain between her and Machi’s side of the room was open. Lee could see the blood on the pillowcase if she climbed onto her own mattress. It was slightly browner than it had been that morning (Lee was at the hospital for the better portion of her afternoon). 

Lee picked up the hefty package (despite it being just as big around as her and half as tall), and lugged it with her to the closet where she hastily shoved clothes into a duffel bag. She didn’t really have that many belongings other than the essentials, books, her computer, and now this package that wouldn’t fit into her bag. Machi’s phone and earbuds were still in her jacket pocket.

She blinked expectantly at officer tightass who had been respectfully keeping his distance at the opposite side of the room and pretending like he wasn’t keeping a careful eye on everything Lee was doing. He got the hint and walked over to pick up the package for her.

This time when they got into the police car, Lee claimed the backseat with her birthday package. Once the vehicle was in motion, she took to noisily tearing wrapping paper off of the box and tossing the pieces onto the floor.

She pointedly ignored the note scrawled in Machi’s messy hand on the side of the present ( _ “happy 4th, little freak” _ ) just like she ignored how officer tightass kept curiously glancing at her through the rearview mirror. He wasn’t slick - she had seen him angle it down towards her after he started the cruiser. 

Once the gorilla-patterned wrapping paper (Lee’s choice from the Christmas before) was thoroughly eviscerated and in little pieces that littered the floor of the car, Lee took to unfolding the box. It was strangely dusty for a gift, which told her that it was probably a hand-me-down of some sort. 

A little cloud of grime arose when she tugged too hard on one of the box flaps and she crossly swiped at the air to get it to settle. 

Lee was fully unprepared for what awaited her once the dust cleared. 

Inside the box in neat, numbered rows were… manga volumes. 

Naruto manga volumes, to be precise. 

Didn’t anime not exist in this universe? And what had Machi called these things again? “Sacred texts?” Huh. Lee might have finally found a religion she could get behind. 

Lee very much wanted to think about it more, but apparently the severe emotional trauma of losing a parent at a young age was no joke. Almost immediately after closing the box, Lee felt a wave of exhaustion come over her, causing her posture to slump and her eyelids to droop. 

She was out within minutes, curled into a lumpy ball in the back of a police car with her face smushed into a box of Shonen Jump.

_____

  
  


Officer Tsukauchi Naomasa was not having a Merry Christmas. 

Being only 26 and working towards the title of Detective in one of the most competitive precincts in the country meant working overtime - which apparently included waking up at the asscrack of dawn on a holiday to drag himself out of bed and into the station. And just to top it all off, he had been one of the lucky few called as first responders to a victim of respiratory failure before the day had even made it into the afternoon.

On Christmas.

Naomasa could hardly wallow in his own self pity for long, though. Not when the victim’s daughter - a literal four-year-old child - was handling the situation better than he was. 

This was far from his first rodeo. Naomasa had been to a couple of murder scenes grotesque enough to make a seasoned officer sick to their stomach. He’d even dealt with a messy suicide case before. 

But it was something about hospitals, man. Something about seeing people watch their loved ones walk the precarious line between life and death was somehow worse than an instant kill. There was so much more suffering involved, both mental and physical. As horrible as it was to say it, Naomasa would take a grisly homicide situation over the hospital anyday.

But today was not one of those days.

He and a few others from his precinct were sent to the hospital to look after the kid if things went south. This involved staring creepily through the small glass panel on their hospital door every so often to see if anybody had died yet. It made Naomasa feel guilty, like he was intruding on something he wasn’t supposed to see.

Every time it was his turn to look through the window, it was the same sad image: the smaller Fujii standing at the bedside of the older one, both motionless and completely silent. He had seen them talking at some point, but it didn’t last long.

The entire ward knew when Fujii Machi finally passed. 

Nurses and doctors flooded the room to make sure the body was truly dead with somber looks to their faces. One of Naomasa’s superiors started crying at some point, silent tears trailing down his face. Naomasa was pretty sure he shed a couple as well. This was always the worst part: the suffocating blanket of grief that seemed to coat them all after an innocent death. 

The only part worse than that was having to deal with the innocent’s family members after the ordeal. Which, of course, ended up being Naomasa’s job. 

He had been steeling himself at the door to the hospital room, ready for a chest full of snot-nosed, grieving brat. But then he opened it and… nothing. 

Fujii Lee was standing at the same spot she had been in all day, by her mother’s bedside, even though the bed was long empty. She looked heart-breakingly small in the large room, a glazed look to her eyes. 

_ “She’s grieving,” _ Naomasa reminded himself.  _ “She’s only four years old and her mom just died. Treat her accordingly.” _

And what did Naomasa do? He started lecturing her about custody. Let it be known that Naomasa was not hired because of his prowess in handling children. 

He knew she wasn’t listening to him, but he didn’t mind. She didn’t look like she did either. If anything, she seemed relieved that she didn’t have to do any of the talking and was lost in thought. Naomasa was just glad he didn’t have to deal with a crying little girl. 

He was a good five minutes into his dissertation on the legalities of relative adoption when she finally said in perfect, inflectionless Japanese:

“It’s been a long day. Can I get a ride back home to pack a bag?”

Now, Naomasa was no expert on children, but he was pretty sure this wasn’t normal. Normally when there was a minor involved in these sorts of situations there was a lot more crying involved. This kid seemed to have skipped all five stages of grief entirely, as well as displayed impressive vocabulary and articulation skills.

“A bag? What for?” Naomasa asked, even though those were the least of his questions.

“My stuff,” the literal child deadpanned - and was that  _ sarcasm _ Naomasa heard?! “I don’t think I can legally pay rent yet, so the apartment’s probably going to go up for sale soon. Don’t really want to still be in it when that happens.”  _ True _ .

Naomasa was thoroughly lost. A four-year-old had just eloquently explained rent to him and his quirk told him she was correct. He didn’t have any time to think it over, though, because Lee leisurely trudged out of the hospital room with a sureness that was definitely uncharacteristic of a four-year-old and all Naomasa could do was stare, dumbfounded. 

Over the next few minutes, Naomasa was once again stuck playing errand boy and was ordered to let the kid return home to fill a bag. He had hoped that his captain would at least know how to deal with a child genius, but she looked just as lost as Naomasa felt. All the other officers in the vicinity were pretending like they were busy so they didn’t have to deal with the little freak. Bastards.

And so, Naomasa and the prodigy rode over to the crime scene, the kid riding in the front seat (because of course she was). She was making quite a show of ignoring him. If he wasn’t so put-off by the weirdness of this whole situation, Naomasa would find it cute.

When at the apartment, Naomasa trailed discreetly after her, making sure to give her enough space to feel like she had some semblance of control over the situation (as was protocol with most grieving victims). He wasn’t so sure that the protocol applied to this victim, though. He could hardly even say she was a victim - God knows she didn’t act like one.

Included with her baggage was a box that was nearly the size of her, patterned with gorillas and a little ribbon on top and - oh god. When the kid made eyes at him to pick it up, he saw the little message written on the side of it. It was her birthday.

It was a double holiday for Fujii Lee and her mom died of lung cancer. Fuck.

Some sort of pity must have shown on Naomasa’s face, because Lee made it her priority to shred every last bit of wrapping paper in his cruiser and throw it on the floor. He couldn’t find it in him to be angry, though. Because Jesus. 

Naomasa could see through his rearview mirror that she conked out not too long after littering all over his car and sent to his higher-ups that he was taking her back to the station. 

As set as she seemed on foster care, the group homes in this side of Musutafu were decidedly poorer than others. They were no place for a little kid, much less a four-year-old one. 

However, as the day continued and he and the rest of the station did some digging, the kid’s hunch looked to be correct. She had no living family that was currently inside the country, nor were any family friends currently eligible for adopting. Her next best option was foster care. Goddammit.

Naomasa ran a hand down his tired face and sat back in his chair, casting a regretful look at the kid sleeping in the lounge.

She was so young, yet acted far from it - like her mind was years ahead of her own body. Not to mention she now had the emotional baggage of a seasoned anxiety-ridden adult. He watched as she shifted in her sleep and threaded her fingers through her hair, something she seemed to do a lot - a tic of sorts?

No matter. As much as he might care about her well-being, her case was out of his hands now. All Naomasa could do was watch from the sidelines and hope foster care treated her all right.

He let out a frustrated huff and got up to make himself another cup of coffee. 

“Joy to the world”, his ass. Hopefully New Year’s wouldn’t be so depressing. 

_____

  
  


Ochaco had been ecstatic when she woke up Christmas morning. Christmas meant presents and yummy food and good music and spending time with Lee because they were birthday sisters (even though Ochaco’s was a couple days after Lee’s). 

The morning had gone like it normally did during the holidays. Ochaco woke her parents up really early because Santa came and she wanted to open her presents. Then, after presents, they ate a really big breakfast of pancakes and syrup because they were Ochaco’s favorite. She always liked to drown her fluffy stack in maple syrup until mommy told her to stop. Not like Lee, though. Lee always put peanut butter and applesauce on hers, of all things. It was gross and Ochaco always liked to remind her.

Everything was perfect, and later tonight Lee and her mommy would come over for dinner.

But then mommy got the phone call.

And everything was not perfect.

Lee wasn’t going to come over for dinner anymore and neither was Auntie Machi.

Ochaco cried for hours, begging mommy to let Lee come over. She said no and Ochaco cried even harder, but mommy was crying like she was so she must have been sad, too. When Ochaco asked her why she was sad, with wet cheeks and a choked-up voice she said that: “we both lost a best friend today.” 

Whatever that meant.

Later on, mommy and daddy sat Ochaco down and told her that Machi was in a better place now. They said that she had been sick for a long time, except that now she wasn’t and she didn’t have to suffer anymore. And because of that, Lee had to move somewhere else.

“She can stay with us, mommy!” Ochaco felt like she had finally figured out a solution to this mess, but mommy just looked sadder and daddy started holding their hands. 

“Oh, ‘Chaco…” Mommy started crying again and then daddy had to explain to her that Lee was going to stay with another nice family instead of them. 

“But why?!” Ochaco stamped her foot. “I want Lee to stay with  _ us _ !  _ We’re _ a nice family!” Her eyes were burning and her lip was trembling, but she refused to cry. Lee never cried.

“Because…” Daddy looked like he ate something bad and mommy cried harder. “Sweetie, we have to take care of you because you’re our daughter. We can’t take care of two daughters because it would be too hard for us - not to mention too much money. We promise we’ll try and see if you two can see each other again one day…”

But Ochaco had heard enough. “One day,” she grit out, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks, “I’ll be a good enough hero so that mommy and daddy don’t have to worry about money. And then I can see Lee any time I want.”

They all hugged after that: a big pile of snot and tears and promises for the future. Afterwards, mommy and daddy tried to convince Ochaco not to worry about their money, but she already made her mind up.

Two days later, Ochaco got her quirk. As her parents cheered for her and she made her Princess All Might action figure float around the room, she knew she could be a hero.

It was years, however, before she saw Lee again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake:
> 
> Lee: Thanks for the ride, Mr. Safe Point Guy.  
> Tsukauchi: Actually, my name's-  
> Lee: MR. SAFE POINT GUY.
> 
> For those who are uncultured and didn't get the omake reference, watch Re:Zero in 5 minutes by Gigguk. Absolute banger.  
> ~Chris


	5. Catch me outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own BNHA or Naruto
> 
> “Naruto nine-tailed fox coat fur/I feel like a Gucci ad lib, burr,” - Ski Mask the Slump God

So. Lee discovered her quirk. 

And, not to flex or anything, but it was pretty badass. 

It went a little like this: Lee had awakened from her depression nap in the police station where she was informed that she would be transferred to a foster home the following day. It was late in the day at that point and she was permitted to spend the night in the lounge if she didn’t want to return to the apartment (which she didn’t). 

She spent the rest of her day hours listening to Present Mic’s radio station’s Christmas special like she normally would do on her birthday and sifting through her recently acquired sacred texts. Fortunately, the officers on duty for the holidays kept their distance. She didn’t blame them - nobody wanted to deal with the traumatized toddler on the lord and savior’s birthday, even if it was also her own birthday (but they didn’t know that). 

As it turns out, the sacred texts were literally just the Naruto manga. All of it, from original to Shippuden (minus the filler arcs, thankfully). There were even little interludes and extensive notes in the margins describing the properties of jutsu and chakra. The good shit.

Lee had been an anime watcher herself, but the manga was still entertaining to read, if not better than the show itself. 

It took her several hours of poring over the dusty pages to come to the realization that: hey, there was probably a reason that Machi held these books in such high esteem. It had seemed like it was even to the point of worship with how she had made prioritizing their safety some of her last words.

It took another half hour of thinking about their significance before Lee made another deduction: that Machi had waited until Lee’s fourth birthday to give her the books. The age of quirk manifestation. 

That fact combined with the weirdly specific notes in the margins came together to reveal the extraordinary truth: that chakra was a hereditary trait in Lee’s family, and she was a potential candidate for doing kickass ninja things.

Buzzing with elation, Lee flipped through the first volume to where the Chakra Pathway System was detailed in all its glory. She could hardly calm her jogging knees down enough to even read the page. 

At some ungodly hour of the morning, Lee had finally consumed all of the sacred texts. 

From what she could gather from the books and her previous knowledge of the show, chakra was produced by the internal organs and circulated through the body in what was called the Chakra Pathway System, or the CPS. It was sort of like the circulatory system in that regard, but less obvious than blood - chakra wouldn’t just leak out of her if she was injured. That would be unfortunate.

Lee was most likely born with a built-in CPS, but wouldn’t have been able to utilize the chakra it produced until her body was able to handle it (around 4 or 5 years of age). 

Chakra came from two aspects: physical and spiritual chakra that came together to form stamina. Physical chakra came with physical experience like exercise and training, while spiritual chakra came from internal aspects like meditation and studying. 

Lee estimated that she had more spiritual chakra than what was expected for someone her size and age due to having more mental experience from a previous life. According to volume 4, an abundance of spiritual chakra could be a hindrance when it came to molding - having an imbalanced ratio of spiritual to physical chakra could lead to a smaller output of overall stamina. 

She was okay with that, though. Because, you know. Ninja. 

Of course, one of the first things she had tried after reading up on chakra was to actually use it. First came the oldest trick in the book: the sticky leaf. This constituted one to control their chakra enough to get a light object to stick to the surface of one of their limbs. 

There were no leaves inside the police station, so a piece of her ripped-up gorilla wrapping paper from earlier would have to suffice (and no, she didn’t keep it intentionally - it had gotten stuck in her hair). 

Naturally, it didn’t work the first time Lee tried and caused a minor explosion. Luckily, the explosion was small enough that nobody noticed the small pyromaniac child doing irresponsible things in their common room. 

Honestly, Lee should have seen the potentially dangerous fuck-ups coming; she was in a four-year-old body with no sensei to teach her about chakra properties. All she had was an adult brain and a couple dusty books.

After a couple first degree burns and some singed wrapping paper, Lee came to the conclusion that she was an impatient whore and should probably make sure she could access chakra before actually using it. 

So she sat her ass down on the couch, crossed her legs avatar-state style, put her fingertips together, and closed her eyes. Sitting still was very difficult for her, but she forced her body to calm itself one part at a time until the only sensation she was mindful of was the slight pressure of the backs of her eyelids. 

Lee focused all her nervous energy inwards and took a couple deep, steadying inhales, utilizing all her Jojo’s hamon knowledge to regulate her breathing until she felt her heart rate even out. She didn’t think she had ever been so calm. It was a strange feeling; like she was aware of all of her body, but not on the outside. 

Her pulse thrummed through her with each intake of air flowing into her. Nothing like a little organ synchronization to end the day. She vaguely wondered if this was what it was like to do crystal meth - to feel like a shaman or something. Because if that was the goal, it was working.

It took another minute or two before she felt something: a sort of energy swirling around inside of her. It wasn’t pooled in her stomach like was often described in the show, but rather swirling all around her body. From her lungs to the very tips of her toes, Lee felt herself buzzing with a dormant sort of energy. 

She guessed that was the chakra since she hadn’t had coffee since the day she died.

Her energy was surprisingly cold to the touch, and humming ominously. Slippery, almost. If she concentrated harder, she could feel it crackling slightly, like it had its own little ozone layer.

It also felt weirdly squishy? If that made sense? Almost as if she could push and mold it easily from place to place. She gave it a few experimental prods and watched (in a sort of spiritual sense) as it warped and crackled in response.

Once Lee was satisfied with its sensitivity to her experimental jabs and squeezes, she carefully began pulling more of it to her palm. It was surprisingly easy compared to her original attempts with the wrapping paper. Then, cautiously maintaining the pressure building up in her palm, she slowly moved her hand outwards until it was directly sticking out, perpendicular to her body. There was a piece of paper in her palm.

And then she flipped the hand over.

And the paper stuck.

Lee snapped her eyes open, concentration snapping like a wound guitar string. A smug grin spread its way across her face. “Nice.”

She then proceeded to conk out on the couch from chakra exhaustion.

_____

  
  


Lee woke up with what felt like a hangover. 

Her head pounded unpleasantly in her skull and there was a bad taste in her mouth that reminded her of that one time Machi had tried to cook homemade soup. Dry and a little sour.

It took longer than it probably should have for her to take in her surroundings and the hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her awake. She groaned petulantly, pushing herself up with her limp noodle arms, Machi’s name on her tongue, but stopped short.

Memories came flooding back: the hospital, a police cruiser, blood on the sheets, officer tightass… 

Shit. Lee didn’t think it was possible, but she suddenly felt so much worse than she had upon first waking up.

Speaking of officer tightass, the hand on her shoulder belonged to him. He was giving her a look that was somewhere in between ‘fond’ and ‘I don’t want to be here’ (and honestly? mood). 

Deciding that it was too early for this bullshit, Lee ignored him and dragged herself to the opposite end of the sofa muttering: “Ten more minutes.”

“It’s ten past noon, kid. Up and at ‘em.”

First of all,  _ ow _ . He wasn’t talking very loudly, but every word he uttered sent stabbing pain through her brain. Usually, Lee would have no qualms with getting up at an acceptable hour, but she had cottonmouth and a raging migraine. Life could wait another minute before putting her through hell again.

She responded to him by shoving her head under a throw pillow and groaning again. His muffled chuckle that reached her through a layer of synthetic feathers was not helpful in the slightest. 

“C’mon, freak,” officer tightass sighed, poking her in the side. “You’ve got a meeting with some foster parents in thirty minutes. We don’t want you looking too much like a guttersnipe when they show up.”

Lee wrenched the pillow off of her face and uttered a string of curses definitely not appropriate for a four-year-old that left officer tightass gaping in disbelief. She’d forgotten about the whole ‘being an orphan’ thing, and was not happy about being surprised with it again. She quickly and aggressively organized her duffel bag and sacred texts, griping obscene things under her breath the entire time.

When she finished, the officer was still gaping at her. “What the  _ hell _ kid. Where did you even learn those words?! You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know. There’s a shower down the hall and to the left. I put a stool in there so you can reach the faucets. Meet me by the front desk in ten.”

And with that, he left a simultaneously miserable and amused Lee with a towel and some hygiene products. In some ways, being a little kid had its perks. Like confusing the fuck out of unsuspecting adults. Lee hummed the USSR national anthem as she squinted her way to the showers.

Fifteen minutes later, she met a disgruntled officer tightass at the front desk.

“You’re late,” he said in a disapproving voice.

Lee shrugged. She knew. She just didn’t care. She avoided his gaze in favor of staring at the couple walking through the station doors. 

They were a man and a woman, both pretty normal-looking on all physical levels. Judging from context and how officer tightass turned off his ‘annoyed face’ and replaced it with his ‘professional’ one, these were probably Lee’s foster parents. 

She immediately pulled a 180 and power-walked back into the lounge. It didn’t take long for her to gather her things and drag them out into the lobby. The three adults (plus a curious receptionist) looked down at her questioningly. 

There was a significant awkward silence before the lady piped up. “You must be Lee-kun~!” She beamed down at Lee with too many teeth and a cloying perfume that made her want to go back to the comfy couch. 

“... yeah.”

Foster lady (whom Lee decided in that moment would forever be known as ‘Toofus’) got all up in Lee’s business, making cooing noises. Lee turned her head away disgustedly to escape the smell of off-brand Chanel that seemed to be rolling off Toofus in waves. 

The woman put her hands on her thighs and bent over in one of those poses that lets adults talk condescendingly to short people. 

Officer tightass, the only sane adult in the room at the moment, looked as uncomfortable as Lee felt. Toofus’ husband (who would thematically be called Doofus) also looked uncomfortable, but less in a ‘my wife is harassing this child’ way and more of a ‘I am always uncomfortable’ way. He reminded Lee of the rat from Ratatouille in both expression and build.

Lee barely managed to stay still as her cheeks were painfully pinched and pulled between Toofus’ acrylic nail-clad fingers. 

“Ohh Zu-zu~!” Toofus’s voice grated as she addressed Doofus. He immediately snapped to attention looking enraptured to have her gaze on him. Love. Disgusting. “He’s such a  _ cutie _ , isn’t he?,” she crooned, continuing to abuse Lee’s cheeks (still annoyingly full of baby fat). “Let’s bring him home to meet the others soon.”

Doofus agreed and Toofus finally let go with a squeal to go embrace her husband, and Lee was finally free to rub at her red face. It was just her luck that these new guardians were not only stupid, but probably clinically insane as well. At the very least it would be easier to sneak stuff by them and…

Wait a minute. “He”? “Him”?

“Zu, why don’t you put Lee-kun’s things in the car? I’m sure he must be exhausted from,” she lowered her voice and shot an exaggeratedly worried glance over at Lee before the next word, “ _ yesterday _ .”

“Of course, my dear.” Doofus made his way over to her baggage near where officer tightass had drifted over to her side (probably in an effort to remove himself from the two crazies). The officer in question looked even more lost than before.

“Uh… If I may, Yamamoto-san,” officer tightass cut in, clearing his throat. “Lee here is actually -”

Lee then took it upon herself to drive her heel into the top of his foot as hard as possible for her little body, cutting him off mid-sentence. He hissed and shot Lee a look that she ignored in favor of bowing deeply to hide her cunning leer.

“Lee here is actually very grateful for your sacrifice in being my guardian,” she finished for him. “Please take care of me, Toof- er - Yamamoto-san. And Yamamoto-san.”

There was a beat of silence before Toofus let out another squeal and pounced on Lee to yet again pinch at her cheeks. Lee dodged and glared at officer tightass, who was deliberately avoiding her gaze by staring at the ceiling. Bastard.

If she was completely honest though, she’d prefer living with people like Toofus and Doofus than officer tightass. He was respectable and smart, not to mention an aspiring detective: all traits that would result in her inevitable kidnapping by some villain organization, or even worse, the Hero Commission. The dude was aware that Lee wasn’t normal, but he barely scratched the tip of the iceberg on the plethora of strange and unhealthy habits she had. Him working in law enforcement was a surefire way for Lee to get noticed and inevitably, lose her freedom. 

While the officer was undoubtedly a good person with solid morals, that wasn’t what Lee needed right now. What she needed came in the form of two unsuspecting morons that wanted another foster kid. Lee being underestimated just meant that she could get away with more. Them thinking she was a boy was a perfect coincidental deception - the less they knew about the real her, the better. 

Also, it was funny. She could foresee lots of cheap entertainment stemming from that little misunderstanding.

Lee supposed it was an understandable mistake, since four year olds weren’t exactly known for their gender expression. Her wardrobe consisted of mostly loose, comfy clothing and her hair was kept short around her ears, the longest strands just barely reaching below her jaw. Machi usually cut it for her and sucked at it - her bangs were an atrocious, choppy mess of varying lengths and textures. 

Or at least, she used to cut it. Lee shook her head minutely to clear the familiar ache that thought brought on as Toofus made another attempt to face-molest her.

Lee bet the dynamic duo wouldn’t even notice her significant lack of testosterone until she started growing tits, which (thankfully) wouldn’t happen for several years. From the looks of what Machi was packing, though, Lee didn’t have much to look forward to in that area. She mentally sobbed at the thought of having to go through puberty again.

Doofus returned to the lobby to the scene of Lee and Toofus in a strange dance of pinching and evasion, officer tightass awkwardly standing in the background unsure whether he should laugh or intervene. They left before he could make his decision.

It took twenty minutes to get to the Yamamoto household. Lee put her earbuds in before either adult could try to start a conversation and took to staring out the window. Judging from the couples’ car, they were reasonably wealthy - which made sense now that she thought about it, because raising children was a fucking waste of money. 

As they drove it became apparent that they were in a far more affluent part of town than Lee was used to. Run down flats and small businesses were replaced by residential housing and shopping centers. She could smell the privilege. 

It’s not like she hated rich people. Rich people were great - especially if they bought you stuff. However, seeing an Endeavour-promoted billboard for a name brand product stung a little. The fact that a shitrag like him was making millions off of saying he liked Hot Cheetos while Machi had to work her ass off every day just for a minimum wage paycheck said something about the system. 

It didn’t help that quirk discrimination was at an all time high, either. 

Lee frowned, immersed in her depressive spiral for a whole ten seconds before brightening - she had remembered that there was a fruit pouch in her duffel. 

The police station was in the middle of Musutafu. Lee used to live a few minutes west of there, on the poorer side. Right now she was the deepest into the east side she’d ever been in her four years of anime existence. It was crazy to think that there was an entire new world to explore and she’d never even left her hometown before. 

Guess she’d just have to start now.

They pulled up to a sizable house with a two-car garage and at least three stories. It had a good-sized yard and a basketball hoop set up in the driveway. There was a good amount of balls and frisbees and shit strewn around the lawn and driveway, something Lee hadn’t seen since her first childhood. 

Not that she’d missed it; kids were messy. She was already missing being an only child, and she hadn’t even gone inside the house yet. 

She finished sucking out the contents of her fruit pouch (apple flavored, of course) and hopped out of the car with her bag. 

“Your mattress and the rest of your belongings were delivered to the house earlier today,” Doofus said, and would you look at that: even his teeth were weirdly rodent-like. “Your room is on the second floor, first door on the left. I hope you’re okay with sharing, because we have five other kids living here.” 

He threw his head back and laughed. Lee absently took in the gargantuan house, not even realizing he’d made a joke.

“Thanks old man,” Lee said, lugging her duffel up the front steps and across the threshold. She was greeted by a gust of warm air and a myriad of smells wafting through the air from Christmas tree to cake. It smelled good, but Lee found herself inclining her head, searching for the familiar scent of cigarettes to inhale. 

And couldn’t find it. 

She distracted herself from the obnoxious throbbing behind her ribcage by scaling the stairs as fast as her little legs would allow up to the second floor. By the time she reached the final stair, she was more out of breath than she would have liked - she’d have to work on that. 

The first door on the left was closed. She opened it, expecting to find a room empty save for her minimal belongings but stopped short in the doorway, staring. 

Her stuff was there, yes, but only on one side of the generous space. The other was already fully furnished and decorated, with a whole other bed, toys, and purple bean bag with a chubby cat sleeping in it. There were a smattering of hero posters put up above the bed and a few picture books on the floor. 

Lee sighed and went to sift through the boxes on her side of the room. Looked like she’d have a roommate. Or foster sibling, technically. She cringed a little at the sudden flood of unpleasant memories that accompanied that certain ‘s’ word. Yeah, no thanks. Roommate was easier to say, anyways.

She spent a good thirty minutes unpacking and organizing her things (most of which were books) and another fifteen flipping through the sacred texts. The night before, she’d managed to harness chakra and use it to stick paper to her skin, but had been unable to control the flow of it enough to prevent her stamina from draining: hence, the chakra exhaustion. Four year olds, she jotted sourly in the margins, had abysmal reserves. Yet another thing for her to work on before achieving badassery.

Lee turned the page to a section on meditation methods when she heard somebody coming into the room. Their footsteps padded quietly across the carpeted floor, indicating that they were a child. The footfalls stopped as they reached the doorway. 

They were silent, but she could feel their stare burning a hole into the side of her face. She brought her gaze up to meet theirs, coming face to face with purple eyes belonging to a kid that couldn’t be much older than her. 

In fact, Lee felt she recognized the little dude. It took a few more seconds of staring before it finally clicked: it was that side character who got some screen time during season two’s Sports Festival. What was his name? Shindo? 

His arc was pretty entertaining, Lee couldn’t lie. Plus his character design was very protagonist-esque, with the purple flyaway hair and tragic backstory (she couldn’t remember exactly what went down, but he was in foster care so that smelled of some kind of daddy issues). 

Even if he wasn’t directly involved with the plot, Lee decided it wouldn’t hurt to get on his good side. She still had about eight years to kill before her master plan would kick in, so why the hell not?

Lee did a little head bob at him. “What’s up Tinky-Winky?”

That broke him out of his gawking episode, but rather than responding, he just shot her a dirty look, grabbed the cat off the beanbag, and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Lee stared at the empty space where he had just been and wondered what she’d done wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake:
> 
> Lee, internally: Alright, Lee. Time to make a friend. You can get through this the best way you know how.  
> Lee, externally: Does insulting people to their faces solve my problems?
> 
> Did I just pretend I understood how foster care works? Yes, yes I did. Omake reference is from AOT in 9 minutes (another Gigguk vid).   
> ~Chris


	6. RNP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own BNHA or Naruto. 
> 
> “Okay, put your fucking hands up, this the fucking anthem/Smiling ‘cause I’m young, rich, black, and I’m handsome,” - Cordae

The Yamamoto household was a very different dynamic than what Lee was used to. 

Not including her roomie, there were four other kids living there between the ages of five and twelve. Lee and Tinky Winky were the youngest at four years old. 

After them was Thing 3, who was six. As far as Lee could tell, she was the embodiment of those small obnoxious gremlins from the Dr. Suess book: blue-haired and overly energetic. She was loud and Lee avoided her on a daily basis.

Following Thing 3 was Dio (yes, like from Jojo’s). Dio was blonde and seven. He hadn’t done anything to warrant his psychopathic namesakes’ title, but there was a particular glint to his eyes that made Lee sure he was secretly crazy. She wouldn’t put it past him to do something like cooking the family dog or crushing one of his foster siblings with a steamroller. Her money was on as soon as he hit puberty.

Little Bitch was ten and deserved his nickname. Enough said.

Simon Cowell was a finicky eleven-year-old girl that radiated the same energy as a middle-aged British man whose job was to judge people. Lee disliked her, but not as much as Little Bitch.

Five days a week, Toofus and Doofus would take Thing 3, Dio, Little Bitch, and Simon Cowell to school and then go to work themselves, leaving Lee and Tinky Winky at home alone. It took longer than it should have for her to realize that that probably wasn’t ideal.

It wasn’t like with Machi, where Lee’s above-average intelligence entitled her to more independence - Machi had been aware of Lee’s differences, and treated her as such. Toofus and Doofus treated her like she was four. They had no idea she was basically an adult stuck in a small child’s body, and still left her alone for long periods of time. 

Now if it had only been Lee being unaccounted for, she wouldn’t have minded. She would have  _ preferred it _ , actually. However, it was brought to her attention that Tinky Winky, who was  _ actually _ four years old, was being left behind as well. 

And it showed.

Lee was by no means a child expert, but she knew child neglect when she saw it. The little dude had some serious abandonment issues. He was almost always alone, even when everybody else was in the house. Lee was too, but it was by choice - Tinky Winky was being actively avoided. 

So she started poking around: at him and the other people in the house, annoying the shit out of everyone and snooping through belongings. It came to her in pieces: a short conversation with Toofus about “how terrible his situation was, the poor thing,” a passing comment from Little Bitch, hell, even the fact that the kid’s only friend was his cat. 

Boy had it been a surprise when she found out it was all just because of his fucking quirk. “A villain’s quirk,” Simon Cowell had called it, her nose wrinkling in distaste. Lee punched her and wasn’t allowed to watch TV for a week. It was worth it. 

Lee wasn’t about to try and parent this kid all on her own (because fuck that), but the least she could do was make sure he didn’t get himself trafficked while Toofus and Doofus were gone. Not that they would notice or anything.

A few weeks after moving in, Lee made a point to join Tinky Winky whenever he went outside to ride around on his tricycle. The first time she did it, he glared at her the entire time. She ignored him in favor of folding her legs underneath her to get some meditating in, something she’d been doing daily since first completing the sticky leaf trick. She could now stick leaves all up and down her arms and legs and face, even while moving. 

By the fourth or fifth time she did it, he barely paid her any mind, whizzing past her with his cat in the tricycle basket. 

It became routine for her to trail behind him through the house or outside, a book or Machi’s phone in hand (which she’d been permitted to keep after threatening to cry). She didn’t talk to him and he didn’t question her for it. The silence was nice. It reminded her of her time with Machi and her chest still ached, dammit.

After once again leafing through the sacred texts, Lee came to the conclusion that she’d have to come up with some form of a training regimen before she could even think about attempting any of the techniques from the show. Her chakra control was steadily increasing with her meditation as were her reserves, but her physical body was in no way a suitable vessel. With the amount of thinking she did all the time, her spiritual chakra was probably overrunning the small amount of physical chakra she had, which according to Volume 3 of the sacred texts, was not a good thing in the long run.

And so, every morning and evening Lee began a stretching routine in order to increase her body’s total flexibility. As well as this, she engaged in a couple very basic strength-building exercises. Heavy emphasis on the  _ basic _ in that statement. She was already a shrimp and she didn’t want to further stunt any potential growing she would do in the future.

The first day she’d done them, her limbs shook and it felt like every muscle in her body was on fire as she sank down into bed - but the next day the pain was completely gone and she was able to try them again. Ah, the joys of being a kid again: her rebound had never been better.

The weeks passed, and Lee could see her progress in the form of slightly less baby fat and quicker reflexes. The stretches became easier and easier, and soon enough she would need to up their difficulty. 

The biggest change, however, was her appetite -  _ holy shit _ , she was hungry all the time. Her increase in physical activity as well as her newfound chakra was eating away at what little fat stores she had, and her stomach constantly howled at her to replenish them. 

Which led to her current predicament: cooking. Machi hadn’t exactly been a five-star chef (read: she sucked ass at cooking), and Lee hadn’t been one either before she died. Being a college student meant subsisting off of takeout and instant ramen. She hadn’t exactly had the time or money to do much experimenting in the kitchen. 

With Toofus and Doofus gone all day, Lee usually just raided the fridge for leftovers. But since she had so much free time, she figured she might as well do something useful with it.

She ambled into the kitchen, recipe for simple fried rice pulled up on her phone and an apron so big on her that it brushed the floor wrapped around her middle, ready to get started. And then she was given a glaring reminder that she was still barely clearing 2’6’’. 

Lee glared accusingly up at the counter she couldn’t reach and stalked off towards the dining room to snag a chair. 

The night before, Doofus had made rice and she knew there was some leftover in the fridge. Frozen vegetables weren’t ideal, but Lee would have to make them work because she wasn’t about to attempt maneuvering a knife with her clumsy little fingers. She’d improved her motor skills significantly, but not to that level.

It took the majority of a bottle of sriracha and more spilled peas than Lee would have hoped, but after a half hour she could say with certainty that what she’d made was edible. It was very spicy and far from Emiko’s level of culinary mastery, but Lee chewed and swallowed and yeah, it was definitely fried rice. 

She saw it as an absolute win.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Tinky Winky lurking by the counter and fixed him a bowl, pretending not to notice. He didn’t say anything, but when he was done the bowl was empty, so he must have liked it. 

It became another one of their weird rituals: Lee tried her hand in the kitchen when the house was empty, and Tinky Winky was her guinea pig. Over the course of a few months, she learned that he had a thing for melon, but would always push bits of his eggs to the side (and when he thought she wasn’t looking, feed them to the cat). 

The cat in question’s name was Igor, but Lee liked to refer to him as Fat Bastard. He was large and black and moved so little that for a few days, Lee thought he was fake. He was Lee’s favorite sibling.

The cold of winter slowly mellowed out until it properly felt like spring and Lee was already missing being freezing all the time. She began teaching herself to circulate chakra in such a way that she could regulate her own body temperature (as described in sacred text Volume 5). A couple weeks later, Lee didn’t have to worry about the heat anymore.

Her new routine went something like this: she’d wake up no earlier than 10 am from late-night internet escapades and engage in her stretches. Then it was a late breakfast or early lunch that consisted of leftovers and/or a googled recipe followed by at least an hour of meditation outside with Tinky Winky. After he got tired and came inside, Lee followed him up to the TV room where they’d zone out watching anything from old movies to cartoons. 

Lee took the liberty of introducing Tinky Winky to Avatar: the Last Airbender. Watching him experience it for the first time was the most expressive she’d ever seen him, purple eyes wide with wonder, arms clutching at a motionless Fat Bastard.

They’d chill in the house until the evening when everybody else returned, then escape to the yard until it was less loud. Lee took up increasing her endurance by running around with whatever discarded sports equipment she could find around the house: soccer balls, basketballs, a frisbee, a volleyball, a jump rope, etc. 

Then, as the sun set, they’d stumble inside, sweaty and gross, eat, bathe, and go to bed (or in Lee’s case, whip out the computer for another four hours). She knew it wasn’t healthy for somebody her age to be getting so little sleep, but if she didn’t run herself into the ground she’d lay staring at the ceiling for hours, fingers threaded into her hair. It fucking sucked, so she avoided it.

Per tradition, Lee would find time every day to listen to Present Mic’s radio show while proudly wearing his merch. God, she loved that man. It wasn’t an uncommon sight to find her perched on the couch, earbuds crammed into her ears, Present Mic sock on her feet, and a hint of a smile trying to work its way onto her face. 

Weekends were much of the same, but required more evasive maneuvering to avoid unwanted attention from Toofus and Doofus. The first few weeks after she moved in, they kept trying to spend time with her. To which she asked innocently why they never did the same with Tinky Winky. They didn’t try as much after that.

Later that day, during one of her late night twitter perusals, she took up her old habit of trolling Quirkist users with a vengeance. A new and effective tactic was spamming their comments with hero fancams - though verbal smackdowns were still her personal favorite.

Summer came in all its disgustingly hot and sweaty glory and Lee stuck to the indoors more often than not. Today, she was adding to her growing repertoire of kitchen skills with an ambitious baking challenge: melonpan. She’d had it once before dying which was definitely not enough for one lifetime - so she’d have to make up for it now.

Recently she’d taken to baking after finding out that she was better at it than cooking. Cooking had too many variables for her to focus on, which often ended in something getting scorched or left forgotten on the counter. Baking was surprisingly easy when most recipes followed the pattern of’ throw shit in a bowl and then bake it.’ 

The heat of the oven made her a little uncomfortable, but it was nothing a little chakra circulation couldn’t fix. 

Melonpan involved dough, so it took several hours to get everything done. The smell of the baking pastries filling the kitchen was well worth it, though. She basked smugly in the smell of her own success while washing the dishes. 

Once the timer went off (which Lee had set to be the song Sicko Mode), she swirled chakra through her hands to lessen the heat of the baking sheet through the towel she used to grab it. She didn’t bother silencing the alarm, humming along with the vocals. She was living her second lifetime and Travis $cott still went hard.

The second she set the pan down, she heard familiar footsteps padding towards the kitchen and watched as Tinky Winky’s fluffy hair came into view before he did. 

He pretended not to be curious about the smell, but ultimately failed when his gaze fell onto the pan of cooling melonpan.

His eyes widened comically.

Lee snorted and poked at one of them with a chakra-filled finger. “You good there Tinky Winky?”

He just continued to stare at the pan, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Weirdo.

“While I’m flattered you’re so impressed with them,” Lee started drily, “You really shouldn’t be. This one looks like a rock. Feels like one too.” To further her point, she rapped at it with a knuckle. 

Tinky Winky slowly turned to look at her, hesitant wonder in his eyes. “How…” he said, voice hoarse from disuse. “How did you know?!”

Lee blinked. “Eh?”

“My birthday.” He looked close to tears at this point and Lee didn’t really know what to do, hovering awkwardly by the sink. “It’s today. How did you know my favorite food was melonpan?”

This much emotion over  _ that _ ? Huh. He must really like melonpan.

And then it hit her. Of course he was crying - the kid had probably never had anybody do anything special for him on his birthday what with being neglected and all. She doubted he was even expecting to get acknowledgement today, much less an entire tray of sweets.

Granted, Lee hadn’t actually known that it was his special day. It was a complete coincidence that he walked into the kitchen at that point: Lee just happened to be making melonpan, and it just happened to be July 1, which also happened to be his date of birth.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to take advantage of said coincidence for personal gain.

So what she said was “Because I know everything, kid,” handing him a steaming bun. “Happy birthday.”

They ended up finishing the entire pan together and passing out on the couch before everybody got home from their daily activities. Doofus returned first and was greeted by the sight of Fat Bastard staring at him from where he was being slowly suffocated between the bodies of the two children, Avatar blaring on the TV.

Tinky Winky started hanging around her more often and actually holding conversations. Since he wasn’t annoying as the other kids, Lee let him.

She ignored the fact that it took him over six months to feel comfortable enough with her to speak freely. 

_____

  
  


One of the things that Lee noticed as she slowly built up her chakra reserves with daily meditation were her senses - or rather, how they were going fucking haywire.

Every time she crossed her legs, poised her fingers, and closed her eyes to look inward and find her cold, buzzing energy, it was like she became more aware of her surroundings. Despite her eyes being closed, she could hear, feel, and smell minute changes in the area around her body: some nearby flies, the wind on her skin, the smell of Tinky Winky’s sweat. 

Granted, she couldn’t detect these things nearly as well when she wasn’t in a meditative state, but there were still differences. Like how if she pushed chakra to her nose, her sense of smell increased to the point where she could smell the neighbor’s dinner. Or if she pushed a small field of her chakra outward from under her skin, she was suddenly a boss at dodging (an ability that she definitely abused whenever Tinky Winky agreed to play tag). That last trick expended more chakra than the first, or even the temperature-regulating one, but that was to be expected; Lee found it was easier to control chakra if it had a medium, i.e. her body or a physical object. Once out of the body, it lost all its form and required more precise control to be manipulated.

This was a fascinating concept that Lee had way too much fun with, pumping experimental bursts of chakra in everything from her dinner (which seven times out of ten exploded and resulted in a stern talking-to from Toofus or Doofus) to a frisbee. Once, in a bout of sugar-fueled mania, Lee pushed as much chakra as her young coils could handle into a knife and chucked it as hard as she could across the yard to where it lodged in a tree.

To this day Toofus had no idea that a piece of her kitchen cutlery was stuck handle-deep somewhere in the woods behind the house.

Living things, however, were the easiest to transfer chakra to. 

The first time she tried it, Lee ended up shocking the hell out of Little Bitch and making him cry. Little did he know that she’d chosen him as a target for that particular experiment, fully aware it would probably end badly. She didn’t tell Toofus that, of course, and blamed it on static electricity. 

Apparently, there was a reason for human bodies being chakra-conductible. Volume 7 of the sacred texts stated that due to how people were the ones who could harness chakra, their bodies were pretty much hard-wired to conduct it. 

However, Lee realized one late night at the computer that she was probably the only person in the country, maybe the whole universe (this one, at least), that had a Chakra Pathway System. And while it was comforting to know that she was unique in that regard, that left everyone else with their own unharnessed pool of chakra inside of them. 

Having a CPS meant that at some point that pool would be disturbed and dipped into for badass ninja things. But since Lee was the only badass ninja, everybody else around her had completely dormant, untouched chakra reserves. 

This implied two things. One was that Lee could potentially tap into and use other people’s dormant chakra - something she hadn’t tried yet for ethical reasons. She didn’t want something like accidental murder on her record before applying to the most prestigious high school in Japan.

The second thing was that Lee was beginning to be able to sense others’ chakra. 

It began around the time she started being able to feel her surroundings during meditation. Tinky Winky would come within range and even though her eyes were closed, she could tell he was there. It was a little surprising because his chakra felt different than hers. 

While Lee’s was cold, soggy, and humming with energy, his was more still and closed-off. It almost felt staticky? If that made sense? It probably had something to do with his quirk, but whenever she tried to ask him about it her got all quiet and broody. She couldn’t, for the life of her, remember what it was from the show.

Lee, of course, decided to abuse this newfound ability too and made Tinky Winky play hide and seek with her. 

She was so good at it that they had to revise the rules and make her wear a blindfold whenever she was hider  _ or _ seeker. One time she managed to use her sensing to evade Tinky Winky so well that it took hours for him to realize that she had shut herself inside the refrigerator.

“Wow, pipsqueak,” Lee had commented, crunching on an apple as he gaped at her from outside of the crisper. “You suck at this.”

His resulting angry exclamation was way less threatening than he probably intended it to be (given that he was five and had one of the biggest pairs of eyes she’d ever seen, giving Ochaco a run for her money). 

Lee didn’t want to say that life was good for fear of past incidents where she said the same thing and was royally fucked over the next day, but things were going pretty okay. She might not have gotten a good night’s sleep in several months and hated six out of eight of the new house’s inhabitants, but it could be worse.

Apparently she was cursed or something because literally  _ right after _ she was settling into her new normal with Shinsou and Fat Bastard, they were cornered by Toofus and Doofus after dinner.

They handed over two railway passes, explaining the importance of not succumbing to kidnappings on the occasions that the cards would have to be used. What’s fucked up was that Lee noticed how they didn’t seem as concerned about such a thing happening to Tinky Winky, and rarely spoke to him in a manner that would require verbal response. The kid looked absolutely miserable, clutching Fat Bastard and his card closer and staring at the ground. 

Lee would have used this as fuel for her work ethic in screwing with the two concerningly dull adults (her latest attempts involving bullying them into buying her appropriate amounts of toy weapons for science), but was more preoccupied with their reason behind giving her the railway pass to begin with.

Rationally, Lee should have known that this would come up at some point due to the whole ‘being a child’ thing. She just hadn’t expected it to happen so… soon. Had it really been that long since Machi…

She absently realized that she’d missed her own fifth birthday, too caught up in Christmas and her own quirk. Frowning, she quickly walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs after she and Tinky Winky had been handed some standard notebooks, binders, and writing utensils. She dropped them on the floor in disgust and scrubbed frustrated fingers through her hair and down her face, letting out a muffled groan.

Starting in April, Lee would have to go to kindergarten. For a second time. Hours a day trapped in a stuffy room surrounded by nothing but children. Not to mention the boredom of making arts and fucking crafts when she had the intelligence of a college student - and a smart one at that.

She groaned again. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” Tinky Winky repeated from behind her in the doorway. Lee whipped her head around to give him a considering look before gesturing for him to come sit beside her. If she was going to school, at least she’d have company. It might not be completely terrible with Tinky Winky there.

She extended her hand with a sort of grudging acceptance. “I’ll teach you more curse words if you give me the last melonpan.” 

His face lit up and he grasped her fingers eagerly. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake:
> 
> Lee: *is offended that she has to go to elementary school*  
> Also Lee: Hey bestie let's play tag.
> 
> It's gotten to the time of night where the words start doing the macarena off my page. Sorry for any grammatical errors.  
> ~Chris


End file.
